


The Man He Might Have Been

by LibKat



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 6.8 “No One”, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angsty Fluff or Fluffy Angst?, Episode Related, F/M, Jaime is the real romantic of the cast, Let’s get that redemption arc restarted, Or maybe just a big girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-02-08 16:24:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12868422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibKat/pseuds/LibKat
Summary: As Brienne’s boat disappears from view, Jaime imagines what might have been.





	1. To Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones and these characters are owned by a bunch of people who aren't me. I will return them undamaged when I am through playing with them.
> 
> This is my take on Jamie's feelings as he watches Brienne being rowed away from Riverrun. Based entirely on the television version of the universe since this doesn’t happen in the books. 
> 
> Except I’m sort of seeing Jaime and Brienne as closer to their book ages, early-mid-30’s and early 20’s.
> 
> And I’ve also got Jaime’s head space vis-à-vis Cersei closer to where he is in the books instead of the I-Wuv-Cersei-SOOOOOOOO-Much-What-Happened-To-My-Character-Arc limbo poor Nikolaj Coster-Waldau was stuck in for most of four freakin’ seasons.
> 
> And *hangs head in shame* Jaime is totally Mary Sue’ing himself here. Yeah. That’s right. It’s all Jaime’s stupid, handsome fault.
> 
> The interjections from Jaime’s conscious mind are in bold. You’ll understand when you read it.

The last bit of the night's mist lingered over the river, hiding the receding boat unless you knew to look for it. I gave one final wave as Brienne's pale face turned away, to her path forward.

Again, my lady, I am left to gaze sadly after as you depart. I fear we shall not meet again before the Stranger takes us both.

There is still much I need to do to secure Riverrun. It takes more to conquer a castle than unfurling a few banners. Though you would never know that by the behavior of the fucking Freys.

Before duty claims me again, I’ll take a moment for myself, here on this parapet, in the burgeoning light of the rising sun, a moment to imagine a life I might have had…

If I had never killed a king...

If I had never taken up the white cloak…

If I had never crossed the boundaries of the natural affection between a lonely, love-starved boy and his beautiful sister…

…

If Rhaegar and Lyanna had never lost their minds for one another...

…

This is my vision in the breaking dawn and I will dream it as I like.

 


	2. First Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime rewrites his story.

  
Prince Rhaegar finally rebelled against his father at the great tourney at Harrenhal. By chance Rhaegar had learned that Aerys’s pyromancers were stockpiling wildfire in the tunnels beneath King’s Landing. If any of his nobles were to rise up against him, Aerys planned to destroy the city and be reborn in the flames as a true dragon. The Silver Prince could no longer remain blind to the depth of his father’s madness. Over several months Rhaegar quietly built a coalition of Houses great and small. When Aerys decided to leave Kings Landing and his wildfire to journey to Harrenhal, the time had come to spring the trap.

” _ **And I would never have been invited to join such a rebellion.” Jamie told his wandering imagination.**_

Jamie Lannister, though still shy of sixteen name days, was already gaining a reputation as a gifted fighter. He had been knighted by Rhaegar’s great friend, Ser Arthur Dayne. But Jaime was the son of the dreaded Tywin and had not been recruited for the uprising despite Ser Sumner Crakehall vouching for his trustworthiness. Rhaegar despised Lord Tywin. He suspected that the former Hand, in a bid to rule in all but name, had prolonged the king’s captivity during the Defiance. Imprisonment at Duskendale had broken Aerys’s already tenuous hold on sanity and Tywin Lannister had milked it for every advantage. In a bid to curb the Hand’s power, Rhaegar had insulted Lord Tywin beyond forgiveness when he publicly refused betrothal to “Lord Lannister’s golden Cer-pent.”

Jamie arrived at Harrenhal after a disappointing visit with his betrothed and her family at Riverrun. Ser Brynden, the only Tully whom Jaime found interesting, had been absent from the castle for the whole of Jaime’s sojourn there. Staid Lord Hoster, prim Lady Catelyn and self-important Lord Edmure had not made for jovial company. Lysa Tully’s mercurial temperament, and her marked preference for a slyly obsequious fosterling, had left Jaime worried about the future. The tension of the visit made him long for a good scrap. Harrenhal was an easy stop on his journey home to Casterly Rock. And it would be his first tourney since being knighted.

In an exchange of ravens some days before, Ser Sumner had happily agreed to him joining the Crakehall camp at the tourney. But when Jaime arrived, Ser Sumner was distracted and distant. Jaime found it strange when he was asked to absent himself if certain lords came calling, but he took no offense. After the destruction of House Reyne, the Lannisters were not well loved in Westeros.

Without the duties of a squire to occupy his time, Jaime had little to do but roam the encampment and add up all the oddities he encountered. Men who were taking no part in the competitions still wore their arms and armor. Lords had brought an unusually large number of men at arms, yet their wives, daughters and young sons were absent. The hearty fellowship that was normally to be found at such events was distinctly lacking. Drinking and carousing were replaced with tense conversations that hastily stilled as Jamie passed by.

Jaime might have disliked politics, but he’d been tutored in them by a master. Taking the clues he observed and the air of feverish anticipation in the camp, Jaime drew the correct conclusion and determined where he would ally himself and, by extension, House Lannister. In the opening actions of the coup he moved swiftly to Ser Sumner’s side, fighting with the Crakehall men for Rhaegar. So fierce was Jamie in the battle that he defeated two of the loyalist Kingsguard knights in the fight to take custody of Aerys’s person.

That day Ser Jamie Lannister won the respect of Rhaegar, first of his name, who publicly made it known that Jamie was the _only_ Lannister lord who might seek favor at his court.

Though Rhaegar knew his father had to be removed from the Iron Throne, he had no taste for patricide. He decreed that Aerys would take the black and live out his days at the Wall, under the watchful eye of the Lord Commander and cared for by his maester great-uncle at Castle Black. In return for taking on this burden, the new King would see to the repair and manning of the derelict keeps of the Night’s Watch, rebuilding that institution to it’s former glory.

And with Aerys at the Wall any conspirators who hoped to put him back on the throne would have to travel the whole of the North to reach him and battle the brothers of the Watch to take him.

Jaime knew Lord Tywin would be displeased that his son had joined the coup before victory was assured. To avoid an unpleasant confrontation with his father, Jamie volunteered for the group guarding the deposed King on his journey to the Wall. He would be under the command of two lords his father held in contempt: Rickard Stark, Warden of the North and Robert Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands.

The two oldest Stark sons were also with the group. Brandon, the Stark heir, would be Jaime’s good brother when they each married a Tully sister. Lord Robert would also become a connection when he married the Stark daughter. Jaime hoped that he could foster better relations between his house and the Houses of Stark and Baratheon on the long trip north.

Robert proved an immoderate Lord of Summer, eating, drinking and whoring his way up the King’s Road. He paid no heed to the disgust of his conservative Northern companions as he drunkenly boasted of his anticipated wedded bliss with Lord Rickard’s only daughter, all the while plowing tavern wenches and camp followers at every opportunity. Even Robert’s closest friend, the solemn faced Eddard Stark, made no objection when his father ended the betrothal before Lord Robert ever set his eyes on Winterfell or his “beloved” Lady Lyanna. Jaime found Lord Robert’s excesses repellent and gave up on trying to forge a friendship the second time the wine sodden Baratheon nearly puked all over Jaime’s boots.

The Starks and their Northern bannermen were a different breed from the men of the South, taciturn in word and action, hidebound in their sense of honor. Young Jamie came to appreciate those qualities …

“ ** _Wait.” The small bit of Jaime’s mind that remained detached from the daydream interrupted again. “That is a step too far. Never, ever could I develop any affection for those dour northmen, with their self-congratulatory nobility.”_**

Though Jamie never felt much comradeship with the Starks, he could not help but admire they way they ruled their lands. The small folk in the barren North lived better than many in the richer Westerlands. The Northern bannermen would attack the Seven Hells at their lord’s command and never think themselves ill-used, so much did they love and respect the Starks.

And Lord Rickard, for all his stiff-necked pride, chose to end an advantageous betrothal when he realized marriage to Robert Baratheon would bring his daughter nothing but misery. He treated his children as if they were valued gifts rather than valuable commodities.

Jamie returned from the North with a new perspective on lordship and on family obligations that put him in harmony with the new king but at odds with his lord father.

Several tense years followed as Tywin and Jaime wrangled back and forth over the best path to the future for the Westerlands and House Lannister. His twin, Cersei, was much changed from the sweet sister of Jaime’s childhood memories. She supported their father entirely and mocked Jaime for his softheartedness and soft-headedness.

Casterly Rock had not felt like a home since the death of his mother, but now Jaime felt as if he was in an armed encampment on the brink of battle.

Tywin Lannister had never taken insult well. He keenly felt the contempt of the new king and the contention with his favored son. It twisted him and ate at the iron control that had been his strongest characteristic.

When Jamie’s betrothed ran off with that boy her father was fostering, Tywin took it as a blatant attempt by House Tully to shame House Lannister. He sent his mad dog, Gregor Clegane, to wreak vengeance across the border where the Riverlands met the West. It took an entire company of knights under Jamie’s command to bring down the Mountain and the bandits who rode with him before they could set the Riverlands aflame.

When Jamie’s little brother fell in love with a crofter’s daughter, Tywin was enraged and intended to give the girl to his household guards for rape and degradation as Tyrion was forced to watch. Tywin’s true goal was to break the kind heart and sweet spirit of his hated younger son. Jamie managed to discover the lover’s not-so-secret hideaway and spirit them onto a ship bound for the Free Cities, barely a step ahead of Tywin’s men. Tywin’s anger only grew when Rhaegar refused to allow him to disinherit Tyrion.

**_Jaime’s conscious mind chimed in. “Father would never have let matters stand with Rhaegar. He would never have tolerated being on the outside of power.”_ **

Finally it fell to Jamie to foil his father’s plot to kill King Rhaegar, his queen and their children by attacking their ship as they sailed to visit Elia’s family in Dorne. It was Tywin’s notion to replace Rhaegar with his unstable younger brother, Viserys, who would be wed to Cersei as soon as he was on the Iron Throne. Tywin would rule through them as Regent and Hand. Jamie was able to roll up the ill-conceived conspiracy quietly and the Night’s Watch received another Targaryen and a group Westerlands nobles and ship captains as new recruits.

Tywin Lannister made a last minute escape to Slaver’s Bay. He spent the remainder of his life there, seeking out any young man with silver blond hair who he could dub with the surname Blackfyre, hoping to foment another rebellion. But deposed, exiled and cut off from the wealth of Casterly Rock, Tywin never again managed to cross the Narrow Sea. He died alone, embittered that the realm and the Westerlands thrived in his absence.

Jaime tried hard to believe that his sister had taken no active role in their father’s plotting. Cersei shut herself away in her chambers, refusing to see anyone but her maids. Days later he learned that she was being regularly attended by a maester.

Determined to see her, Jaime came upon a maid removing sheets stained with dried blood from his sister’s bedchamber. Panicked, Jaime forced his way past the girl and through the open doorway. He found his sister reclining on a chaise in her bedgown. Cersei was unusually pale, but composed.

“The process has proceeded as expected, Lady Cersei. There should be no repercussions this time either.” Jaime heard the maester say.

“What do you mean, Maester? What process? What repercussions? What have you done, sister?” Jaime looked between the two of them. The maester appeared fearful, but Cersei was cold, her eyes hard and stony as chips of green agate.

“I’ve rid myself of a little complication, Jaime, nothing more. You need not concern yourself. I’m sure you have some urgent quest or tourney or other horridly noble activity to ruin my life even more.”

Jaime turned to the maester. “Out. Now.”

The man scurried off and shut the door behind him.

“What madness is this? Tell me you weren’t a participant in Father’s plotting.”

“A participant! It was _my_ idea. It took only a few hints to put Father on the path. Before long he was claiming all the credit for the plan himself. I would have had an excellent sword to hold over his head once I was queen. I could have controlled him rather than him controlling me.”

“Why, Cers? What could have been worth all those lives?”

“I would have been Queen. I was _meant_ to be Queen, Jaime. It was foretold.” Her voice rose into a plaintive whine. “Nothing is happening the way it was supposed to happen.”

“Cersei, Rhaegar refused you. There is nothing to be done about that now. He has Elia and the children. You have to leave this dream behind you.”

“Rhaegar? I spit on Rhaegar, first of his name. I was supposed to wed a king. I was meant for Aerys. I would have had him too if not for Father. Aerys was obsessed with our mother. It was a simple thing to convince him that I was Joanna reborn and returned _for_ him. He was going to set Rhaella aside for me, disinherit her children for the babes that I would give him. But Father found out and dragged me away from King’s Landing. Father told me terrible lies. He said that it was Aerys who revealed the truth of my lost maidenhood, my plans for my future. He said Aerys laughed at my ambitions and told him of the prince I carried in my belly. Father forced tansy oil down my throat and my beautiful babe bled out of me at an inn on the Gold Road.”

Jaime reeled in the face of her tempest of emotion.

“Then you completed my downfall when you took Aerys prisoner and made that weak minstrel man the king in his stead. Rhaegar will never lead me to my destiny. He humiliated me in front of the whole court, called me names. I would kill him myself if I could. But I have no sword, no armor. You were the one who got those things, not I. All I have is my cunning and what’s between my legs.”

“So you planned to kill an entire family? All to marry Viserys, a beardless boy?”

“By the time Viserys grew to be a man, he would have been completely in my thrall. No man can resist me. I am The Light Of The West. Men grovel for one of my smiles or the taste of my lips. And they plot treason for the heat of my cunt. There were a few lords who had to be persuaded to join us. Father was fast enough to grant them a private audience with their future queen in order to gain their support. I don’t know which of them squirted his inferior whelp into me, but that is eliminated now.”

Jaime looked at her, stunned. What had happened to the sweet sister who had been his one true companion, so close that no one could tell where one ended and the other began? They had grown apart after Jaime had begun training in earnest for his life as a warrior and Cersei to be a great lady. But how had she become someone he did not recognize?

The anger emptied from her eyes, overtaken by something provocative, enticing. Cersei licked her lush lips and ran her hand through her golden hair.

She leaned forward, her night robe gaping to expose her full bosom. Laying her hand on Jaime’s chest, she spoke with an entirely different voice.

“We could be together again, dearest brother, as we were when we were children. Do you remember the games we used to play, I the beautiful damsel and you my brave and noble knight? I rewarded you with kisses and caresses every time you rescued me from peril. Jaime my love, I could reward you with much more now. Give me a few more days to recover myself and I will show you pleasures that you’ve never dreamed of. Together we could make my beautiful, golden children. The dragons join brother to sister. Why not the lions? Lannister blood is the equal of Targaryen. It should remain as pure.”

Speechless, Jaime could only gape as his sister’s small, soft hand trailed inward, downward.

“I’d need a husband, of course, for show and you would have to disinherit Tyrion. But they wouldn’t matter. Only we matter, Jaime. We are the only two people in the world. We came into this world together. We belong together. Our children could be your heirs and I could be your lady in all but name.”

Revolted Jaime caught her wandering hand in an iron grip. “Dear gods, Cersei. What has become of you? How can you even imagine such a thing?”

The seductress was once again overcome by the harpy. Her nails dug in, deep enough to draw blood until he released her.

“ _I_ am the eldest. Casterly Rock should be _mine_. It is only that vile worm between your legs that places you and our monstrous brother before me. Why should that be, Jaime? Why? Why?”

Cersei fell back, keening as if in pain. Jaime stood frozen, uncertain what might come of an attempt to comfort her. The maester crept back in.

“My lord, she takes these spells sometimes. There is a draught I can give her that quiets her, evens out her mood. I had been reluctant to administer it until she was fully recovered from the tansy, but I think it should be chanced lest …” The maester looked at Jaime side eyed.

“See that she receives as much of the medicine as she needs, but no more. Bring no harm to my sister, Maester, or you will deal with me.”

Jaime left Cersei in her chambers, attended by her maids and her maester. He had already planned to travel about the Westerlands, to reassure his bannermen and consolidate his rule. His absence would allow her time to recover her equilibrium. And Jaime would be happy to put some distance between them as he contemplated how to deal with Cersei.

It was some weeks before he looked upon her again.

When Jaime returned to Casterly Rock, messages awaited him that the Lord of the Vale was seeking a new wife. Jon Arryn was frank. Rumors of Cersei’s immoderate behavior were circulating through the nobility of Westeros and it was unlikely that she would receive a decent offer for her hand. But Lord Arryn needed to get himself an heir. As long as his bride was young and proven fertile, he didn’t much care about her past. With the connivance of her pet maester, Cersei had intercepted the messages and, in Jaime’s name, she had begun negotiations with Arryn to bring about the marriage.

In the room he would always think of as “Father’s study”, Cersei approached Jaime, quietly, gravely, but with a glint in her eye that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“I must beg your forgiveness, brother, for my behavior at our previous meeting. I lost myself for a time. I did not know what I was doing. I was out of my mind. Aerys and the babe and Father, it was all too much for me. But I am better now, calmer. I can look to the future again.”

Keeping a good distance between them, physical and emotional, Jaime nodded.

“Is this what you truly want, Cersei. Jon Arryn is an old man already and the Eyrie is almost as remote as Winterfell. Can you be happy there, with him?”

“I do not seek happiness, brother.” Disdain crept into her tone, her expression. She quickly mastered it, seeming again as demure as a woodland violet. “I seek only a fresh start.”

“I cannot stay at Casterly. There are too many memories here, too many temptations,” she peeped at him coyly from her downcast eyes. “Too many sparks to ignite my spells. I need somewhere I can begin again. Somewhere I am untainted by my past tragedies and my mistakes.”

Cersei’s pretense of prim placidity set ill on her, Jaime observed. There was something ominous waiting to break free if given the opportunity. Jon Arryn was a strong-willed man, for all his age, with a reputation for great honor and rectitude. Mayhaps without the corrosive effects of Tywin and the royal court, surrounded by honest people of good character, Cersei could be saved. Jaime was afraid that if she remained at the Rock, near him, she would again grow wild and bring harm to herself or someone else.

Jaime remembered a small, broken figure lifted from an isolated well and shuddered.

If it was not Arryn and the Vale what was left for Cersei but confinement with the Silent Sisters?

“I will take over the negotiations with the Eyrie, Cersei. If you try to interfere, I will progress no further. I will not lie to Lord Arryn about anything. He will know the whole of your past deeds and the … imbalance of your emotions. If after that, he agrees, I will consent as the head of your House.”

Cersei stiffened and seemed to hold something within herself by pure force of will.

“Thank you, brother.” She said through gritted teeth. “It is so kind of you to see to my future in this way. I shall retire to my chambers and await word from you about the progress of the negotiations.” With her head high and her gaze set straight ahead, Cersei swept from the room.

Coming to an agreement with Lord Arryn did not happen swiftly. Jaime had to endure several more uncomfortable encounters with his twin. He tried unsuccessfully to discover whether Cersei had some new plot in mind or was simply running from her failures.

Jaime was determined that Lord Arryn would be under no misapprehension over her character and each time he revealed more of Cersei’s past, Jaime feared it would be the final straw. But with two wives already in their graves and no children from either of them, the Lord of the Vale was limited in choice of a willing woman that met his criteria: young and proven fertile, yet without another man’s children to compete for her attention. Eventually they were able to strike an agreement that, once married, Cersei would spend the rest of her life behind the Bloody Gate, cut off from the rest of Westeros. The key lords of the Vale would swear to uphold this condition in the event of Jon Arryn’s death. No matter what plots she might hatch, confined and far from King’s Landing, Cersei should be unable to foment further mischief of a treasonous nature.

Thus Jamie saw his sister made the Lady of the Eyrie.

After a period of disappointment, Lord and Lady Arryn made a happy announcement, coinciding with the end of a long visit by Jon’s former ward, Robert Baratheon. Seven months later, Lord Joffrey Arryn, black of hair and blue of eye, was born. Two more children followed. Conceived while negotiations over water rights were taking place with Edmure Tully, sweet Myrcella had Lannister green eyes and lovely red-gold curls. Olive complexioned Tommen, the youngest of the Arryn children, was begotten during the long celebrations of Lord Arryn’s 80th name day, where the tourney had been graced by the presence of Prince Oberyn, the Red Viper of Dorne.

Jon Arryn died of a sudden fever in Tommen’s fifth year. The next night, maddened by grief, Cersei cast herself out the Moon Door. Lord Arryn’s handsome, young squire attempted to stop her and she stabbed him several times with a broad sword before she fell. At least that was the report given by Jon Arryn’s loyal castellan. As Jaime rushed to the Eyrie to see to the welfare of the children, he let it be known that anyone who questioned the legitimacy of Jon Arryn’s heirs would be facing the armies of the West. Eddard Stark, Jon Arryn’s choice for guardian and Lord Protector of the Vale, agreed and added his own support for the rights of the children. Lord Arryn had accepted them as his own and that would be good enough for the rest of Westeros. Stark and his wife, Lady Ashara of House Dayne, agreed to take up residence at the Eyrie to raise Jaime’s nephews and niece alongside their own children.

After Cersei left Casterly Rock for the Eyrie, Jamie tried to convince Tyrion to return to Westeros with Tysha and their twin boys. Though happy for the invitation, Tyrion refused in a letter that also forfeited any claim to the Rock for himself and his children. Braavos suited Tyrion and Tysha well. Tyrion had taken some of the gold Jaime had supplied for their escape and bought shares in a merchant ship. When that venture brought a profit, he did it again and yet again. He was well on his way to building an empire of his own and would Jamie care to invest some of the Lannister wealth? Jamie did. While he was grateful to be less dependent on the output of the gold mines, Jaime would much rather have had his little brother to jape with and the merry sound of his nephews running around the Rock.

Blissfully happy in his marriage to Tysha, Tyrion urged Jaime to seek a wife and make a family of his own. Jamie arranged a second betrothal for himself to one of the Crakehall girls. She’d been a sweet child when he’d known her during his time as a squire and had matured into a charming young woman. Jaime thought that they could be content together. But she fell ill before the marriage could be celebrated. A wasting sickness took hold and Jamie spent three years having candles lit to the Maiden with prayers she would recover. When, against all expectation, she did, his betrothed decided that she did indeed owe her life to the gods and asked to be released from their betrothal to become a septa. Jamie still saw Donyse on occasion and they would smile at one another, knowing that each of them was in the place they ought to be.

Jaime gave momentary thought to pursuing the still unwed Lyanna Stark. They shared some pleasant conversations at Winterfell the year of the rebellion. They met again when Lyanna accompanied her father to one of the King’s meetings of the Wardens and Lords Paramount. Jaime assisted in her endeavors to avoid embarrassing confrontations with Lord Robert, who ostentatiously pined for his “lost love” despite the presence of his long-suffering wife. Jaime enjoyed walking with Lyanna in the gardens and talking of jousting or horseflesh. They were often joined by the King on these rambles and their laughter and high spirits echoed through the Red Keep. A marriage to Lyanna was also not to be. After delicate Queen Elia succumbed to poor health, Rhaegar took a new wife as soon as his mourning had ended. To the surprise of many, including Jaime Lannister, Lyanna Stark became the Queen Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.

In the golden age of Rhaegar, first of his name, Ser Jamie, Lord Lannister, Lion of the Rock and Warden of the West was a nobleman deserving of the term, balancing strength with honor, sharp wit with kindness of spirit. He was respected for his judgement and just rule as much as for his skill with a sword.

And if he was frequently lonely, wishing for companionship in his empty castle and his usually empty bed, he preferred that to a marriage without genuine affection on both sides.

“ ** _And how” Jaime’s conscious mind asked, “would this paragon meet the daughter of a minor house of the Stormlands?”_**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has become part of my head canon that after she lost out on Rhaegar, Cersei attempted/was successful in seducing Aerys, planning to get Rhaella out of the way somehow so she could marry him and fulfill Maggy’s prophecy that she would wed a King, not a Prince.
> 
> This idea also resolves problems I have with the timeline. Jaime becoming a Kingsguard to be close to Cersei really only works if she’s a member of the royal family. Rhaegar was already married by then and Viserys was only about 5 so a possible marriage to him was a long way away. Also who could Cersei influence to get Jaime into the KG but Aerys?


	3. Finding The Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jaime met Brienne...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have left comments and kudos. I hope this chapter meets your expectations.

When future generations recounted the tale, it seemed fated that Jamie Lannister met Brienne of Tarth at a tournament.

Robert Baratheon grasped any excuse to host a tourney.  This time it was part of a many days long celebration of his marriage to his second wife, Margaery of House Tyrell.  The Reach and the Westerlands had many common interests and Jaime had been sidestepping an entanglement with Lord Mace’s lovely but sly daughter for several years.  He could not further insult the Tyrells by failing to honor the marriage of their prize rose. 

And Jaime did love a good tourney. 

The melee was graced by a mystery knight, tall, fierce and silent.  He wore fine bronze colored armor marked with a motif of sun bursts and crescent moons and small touches of rose and azure enamel.  Seeing the new knight was the only talented swordsman on the field whom he had not previously defeated, Jamie cut and slashed his way to face this new opponent. 

That first fight was a beginning recounted in story and song.

Jamie recognized quickly that he was facing a young swordsman.  There was a certain rhythm to a fight with a mature man, a recognition of the rise and fall of energies expended in thrust and parry that the young had simply not yet learned.  Still the boy did not make any of the common mistakes of inexperience.  Instead of overextending, this youth played a patient, almost stubborn, game, seeking to allow Jamie to tire himself out. 

The other competitors simply faded away, clearing the ground for the titanic duel unfolding.  On and on it went, advantage changing hands a dozen times as the young knight’s power and endurance battled Jamie's speed and agility.  Finally, there was the smallest slip, something only a swordsman of Jamie's skill could exploit.  His opponent fell and was forced to yield. 

Amidst the applause of the crowd, that Jamie, Jamie the good, Jamie the just, grinned and offered his hand to his opponent. 

With a high-pitched chuff that indicated the boy might be even younger than Jaime thought, the youth accepted Jamie's hand with an awkwardness that had been missing during the combat.  Jaime slung an arm around the boy's shoulder to share with him the accolade of the crowd.

The resistance Jamie encountered was not unexpected.  The boy's vanity would have been pricked by the loss.  

"Now, lad, be gracious in defeat as well as in victory."  Jamie whispered.  "Let us make our bows before Lord Robert and his lady as good friends.  I've not had so fine a dance in quite some time.  I would welcome the chance to train with you in the days before we depart Storm’s End."

Flushed with wine and good cheer, Robert declared it the finest single combat he had seen in many a day.

After accepting a wreath of yellow roses, Jaime ignored Lady Margaery’s flock of Tyrell cousins and crowned Robert’s shy niece, a sweet girl just on the edge of blooming into womanhood, the Queen of Love and Beauty.  Then Jamie bowed to his young opponent. 

"Remove your helm, lad, so the crowd may view Westeros's next great champion."  Jamie guided the hesitant boy. 

The youth turned to a huge, gray bearded man standing at the edge of the lord's boxes.  Receiving an encouraging nod, the boy slowly raised his visor to reveal … 

A woman. 

A homely, freckled giant of a young woman with crooked teeth and sweat matted hair the color of dirty straw. 

"Seven hells!" Robert roared.  "Evenstar, is this your daughter here?  What are you feeding your maids on Tarth?"

The girl's face flushed and she seemed to shrink a bit. 

The Lord of Tarth moved to stand for his daughter as Lady Margaery shushed her new husband. 

"My lord, this _is_ Brienne, my daughter and my heir.  And I have never been more proud to call her that than on this day." 

Gaining confidence under her father's warm regard, Brienne dropped to one knee before her liege lord.  "Lord Baratheon, I am here today as living proof that Tarth will always stand ready to fight for your House, for the Stormlands and for the realm." 

Lady Margaery smiled on her graciously.  "Well said, my lady.  My good brother, Renly, has spoken of you in the past.  I am glad to see that his regard is well deserved." 

The girl's fiery blush might not be considered attractive, but the sparkle in a pair of bright blue eyes captured Jaime's attention. 

"Yes, yes.  Renly was quite descriptive when he returned from his visit to Tarth." Robert said.  "Rise, my lady, and know that I am pleased that the noted valor the Lords of Evenfall Hall will live on in future generations." 

With a final bow Jamie and this girl, this Brienne, cleared the field for the end of the day’s celebrations.  Jamie tried to go after the girl, to congratulate her once again on a battle well fought, but found himself surrounded by his friends and friendly rivals all wanting to jape at him for nearly being beaten by a woman and a maiden at that.

***

That evening Jaime looked for the girl in vain.  After the feast, he sought an out of the way spot where he could avoid the overwhelming attentions of the Tyrell ladies.  Wandering the hallways, he encountered Renly Baratheon and Loras Tyrell drunkenly groping one another.  They caught sight of Jaime and before more than a hint of panic could show on their faces, Jaime sent them a wry smile and a shrug, as if to say that he had no opinions about what two high born boys might get up to together.  They both nodded in relief and darted down the corridor to a room with a door to close behind them and a lock to keep out anyone who believed they had the right to object to what people did with each other in the dark. 

Jaime was about to move on when he heard a low, whimpering sound, like an animal in pain.  It came from a curtained antechamber that might have been the original destination Renly and Loras had in mind.  

Peeking in he found Lady Brienne, her face buried in her large hands, her shoulders shaking as she fought for composure.  She must have hiding in there until she could make her own escape from the festivities. 

Jaime remembered the way the girl’s eyes had lit up at the mention of Renly.  If she had overheard the aborted hallway tryst, any secret daydreams she might have held about the youngest Baratheon brother must be well and truly shattered. 

Jaime began to back away, to leave her to her privacy, but the heel of his boot scraped on the stone floor and Lady Brienne caught his gaze with a gasp. 

How tragic her big blue eyes were, swimming with tears she would not allow to fall.  Yet they were still her only claim to beauty.  Her face was blotchy with her roiling emotions.  Her dress was an abomination, there was no other word for it.  A sickly shade of yellow that did nothing for her freckled complexion, it fit poorly, emphasizing the breadth of her shoulders and her lack of womanly curves.  All the grace that she had shown while fighting was drained from her and she sat, hunched and awkward, on a chaise too delicate for her large frame. 

Jaime did not know what to do.  She did not seem a person who would welcome intrusion on her distress but she might accept distraction.  Jaime was quite well known for his distracting abilities. 

“I did not realize this space was already occupied.  May I join you, Lady Brienne?”

She breathed deeply, the exhale broken as she fought down a sob seeking to escape her control.  A blush seemed to work its way from the crown of her head down to the scanty cleavage revealed by the bodice of her gown. 

“If it pleases you, Lord Lannister.”  Her answer so softly, hoarsely spoken that Jaime could barely hear. 

The chaise would certainly not take their combined weight.  Jaime leaned against the wall, fidgeting with the goblet of wine in his hand as he searched for a neutral topic. 

“You have been well trained with the sword, my lady.  Who was your teacher?” 

“Our master at arms, Ser Goodwin.” 

“You are fortunate that Lord Selwyn was willing to allow it.  My own sister longed for a sword, but our father would not hear of it.  When we were still young enough, Cersei would dress in my clothes and take my place sometimes.  She must have been talented for no one ever realized it was not I on the training ground.” 

“Yes, my father is very kind.” 

So, she would not be distracted with idle conversation.  Mayhaps she would like to hear a story. 

“Have you ever heard the tale of the melee where Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning dueled with Barristan the Bold for nearly half the day?  That was a proper fight.” 

Finally, the girl’s face showed a spark of interest, of life. 

“Everyone has heard of it, but I’ve never met someone who witnessed it personally.” 

“It is something every swordsman or swordswench should hear described in detail.  It was a thing of beauty; the closest I have ever seen to perfection.  The lessons I learned that day... “ 

And Jaime launched into the tale.  He painted pictures with his words and when words would not suffice, he swept about the chamber demonstrating the moves and countermoves that had made up the most famous contest in Westerosi swordplay.  At first Lady Brienne only listened as she was pulled from her misery, then she timidly asked questions.  Eventually she was on her feet, joining in, following Jaime’s instructions as they played the parts, sometimes Ser Arthur, sometimes Ser Barristan.  Finally, red-faced and out of breath in her awful gown, Brienne’s Ser Arthur was victorious over Jaime’s Ser Barristan.  They collapsed to the floor, their eyes meeting as they smiled at one another.

Had anyone come upon them at that moment, they could not have been blamed for thinking that Lord Lannister and Lady Brienne of Tarth had been fucking each other into the floor. 

They had not noticed the passage of time.  The candles had burned low and the noises of the feast had dwindled to almost nothing.  Awareness came over Brienne’s face and broke the moment between them. 

“Gods, my father will be concerned for me.  I have never stayed this late at a feast.  I must go at once.” 

“You cannot wander the encampment on your own at this hour.  I will see you to your father.”  Jaime rose from the floor, standing almost close enough to take Brienne’s hand.” 

The wench actually bristled. 

“I have no need for an escort, Ser Jaime.  I am well able to take care of myself.” 

“I of all men know this, my lady.  I bear more than a few bruises that attest to your skill.  I do not offer my company to insult your skills, but to show my respect to your lord father.  He could not wish you to cross the camp by yourself so late, after all the wine that has been indulged in this night.” 

“And if I accompany you, we can make arrangements to meet and spar when the morning comes too soon.” 

The girl’s mulish expression gave way to grudging acceptance. 

“Very well.  For my father’s sake.”  She placed a large square hand on Jaime’s offered arm.  The heat of her, the scent of her swamped his senses for a disorienting moment.  With a shake of his head, he made to sweep aside the draperies that had protected their privacy. 

“Ser Jaime, you will not mention anything about Lord Renly?” 

“Gods no, wench.  We cannot help who we love.” 

She looked on him approvingly for one heartbeat, two.  Then her face clouded again.  “My name is Brienne, not wench, Lord Lannister.” 

“My name is Jaime.  Wench.” 

Later that night, after he had delivered the lady and exchanged brief words of reassurance with her father, Jaime lay in his own tent and tried to reflect on the events of the day.  In the muddle of his thoughts, one thing stood out.

When he was a youth he would join the other boys and sneak into the cellar to watch Bessie the laundry maid soaking her bodice through as she washed the linen.  Since those days Jaime had found round, ripe breasts to be the first thing that attracted his attention.  How callow he had been.  What was a pair of big tits compared to sparkling eyes the color of rarest sapphires? 

***

 Jaime was surprised in the following days by the competition he had for Lady Brienne’s attention.  They met to spar in the mornings and, naturally, they had an audience.  Jaime was used to that.  Most any male who ever held a sword or ever hoped to would gather to watch the famous Lion of Lannister at swordplay. 

But there was a group of young knights who didn’t come to see him.  They came for the Maid of Tarth, as she was being called. 

They offered to fetch her water, ale or wine to quench her thirst.  They gave her their handkerchiefs to mop her brow.  They tried to claim the next day’s dance out from under Jaime, or her company at a meal or a walk in the gardens or along the cliffs. 

Her father, obviously angling for a husband for his unconventional daughter, encouraged her to spend time with those boys, but they made Brienne uncomfortable.  Jaime disliked seeing the unease in her lovely eyes. 

There was something Jaime misliked in the young men’s manner and he found himself spending much of the following days in Brienne’s company.  They could act as each other’s shield, he told her, he keeping the young knights at bay and she preventing the Tyrell hens from pecking at him.  Spending more time together, Brienne got over her shyness.  She shared her own stories, including one about Renly and a dance, and offered her own opinions on a variety of topics, even when, especially when they conflicted with Jaime’s.  The first time he elicited a long and hearty laugh at one of his quips, Jaime felt as if the sun had come out after a long winter. 

On the next to last evening of the festivities, Jaime was detained from joining Brienne for their usual after dinner walk by a nondescript knight with lank brown hair.  The drunken fool draped a comradely arm around Jaime’s shoulder as he leaned in to whisper to him. 

“It’s unfair of you, Ser Jaime, to monopolize the Beauty as you do.  Lannisters shit gold.  You have no need for the purse.  Step aside and let the men in want of coin try their luck with Big Brienne.” 

The hedge knight, Hudd or Hood or something like that, had approached Jaime near the same antechamber where he had spent that first evening with Brienne.  It took only a bit of pressure on Jaime’s part to push the younger man out of the view of the many guests littering Storm’s End.

Jaime grasped the hand on his shoulder and bent the thumb back as he twisted to gain more leverage.  He leaned and heard the younger man whimper. 

“What do you mean, boy?  I spend time with the Lady Brienne because I enjoy her company.  Why do you and the others seek her out?  What game are you playing involving the lady?”  Jaime increased the pressure on his thumb.  “Answer me or I break it.” 

Hart, Hall, whatever his name was, gasped in pain, but tried to meet the Lord of Casterly Rock’s glare. 

“There’s a bet, almost a hundred dragons now.  Whoever takes the Beauty’s maidenhead wins all.  That’s little enough to a Lannister, but a fortune to someone like me.  And her father is anxious to get her a husband.  He’ll likely give her hand and her island to whoever manages to get into Big Brienne.” 

“So you bastards would degrade a high-born lady for coin and the hope of some land?  The bet ends now, tonight.  You’ll tell your fellow … gamblers and then you will leave before sunrise.  If I see any of them on the morrow, they’ll be picking up their teeth on the practice ground.  If I see you, you will find this lion still has claws.” 

The Rains of Castamere had not been sung in the Seven Kingdoms for years.  But the allusion was not lost on Hint or Hind or whatever his name was.  He paled and whined

“But Lord Tarly offered to take me into his service when he leaves.  If I don’t have Tarth, I’ll need that place.” 

“Lord Tarly will have no use for you if your guts are decorating the ground.  You will begone tonight and never speak to, never look at Lady Brienne again.”

“What could she be to someone like you?  Why the fuck do you care?” 

_Because I dream of her._

“I am a knight and she is an innocent maid.  Think back on the vows you swore.  Do you remember anything about protecting the innocent?” 

“She gave up the right to protection the minute she dared to pick up a sword.  She is unnatural.  She looks like a man.  She tries to be a man.  Let her be treated as one.” 

_She may not be your ideal of a maiden, but her heart and soul are as tender as any other untried girl._  

“How many of your brother knights have you tried to fuck for money?  You fear her skill with a blade and you cannot best her fairly, so you try to bring her down by trickery and false words.  You are scum, the lot of you.  Get out of my sight.  If I lay eyes on you again, I’ll open you from your shriveled balls to your shit for brains.”

He threw Hunt - that was his name, rhymes with cunt - against the wall and left him panting in pain and fear.  Jaime had a lady waiting for him. 

***

 The final day of the celebration was more subdued with the precipitous departure of so many young men.  Lady Baratheon’s court of cousins complained about the lack of company, but a weight seemed lifted from Lady Brienne.  She was freer in her movements, less wary, her attention no longer slightly diverted as if she waited for some blow to fall from which Jaime was unsure he could protect her. 

The confrontation with Hunt had clarified the issue in Jaime’s mind.  There was something here worth pursuing.  Lady Brienne had come to see him as a friend.  He had come to see her as potentially something more. 

**_“She’d never accept a traditional wooing.”  Jaime’s mind had perhaps contemplated the issue on a solitary evening or two.  “You would have to be clever.  And you could never lie to her while you were doing it.  She would never forgive that.”_ **   

Since he had gained the freedom to choose a wife himself rather than be married off in service of the Lannister legacy, Jaime had grown doubtful that he would find a woman who would want the man more than the lord.  Brienne, in all her shy awkwardness, would never accept his hand merely for position or wealth.  Indeed, Jaime’s status as the head of a great House might be a hindrance rather than an inducement in her eyes. 

He needed more time.  Time to be sure that they would be happy together, not for a few days but for a lifetime.  Time to overcome any misgivings Brienne might have about the differences in their positions and experience.  Time to convince the wench that out of all the world he would choose her and greatly desired that she would choose him. 

Jaime sought out the Evenstar. 

Lord Selwyn was supervising the preparations for the return voyage to Tarth.  The huge man, topping Jaime’s not inconsiderable height by nearly a full head, did not stand on the sidelines giving orders while others did the work.  He was in muddy breeches and a sweat stained undertunic assisting with loading unused provisions into wagons for the short trip to the docks.  Jaime could see that if he wanted to gain the lord’s regard, he should roll up his sleeves and pitch in. 

After an hour or so of hard labor, Lord Selwyn called a break as the last wagon departed.  He splashed a dipper of water over his ruddy face.  Brienne came by her rosy tones from her father.  At a motion of his hand, two horns of ale appeared.  Lord Selwyn offered one to Jaime, then drank deep from the other. 

“Nothing tastes as good a draft of ale after a hot morning’s work.  Thank you for assisting us while you waited to speak with me, Lord Lannister.  Too many high-born are happy to stand idle while there’s work to be done.  Glad to know you aren’t one of them.” 

A hearty slap on the back nearly sent Jaime sprawling.  Brienne got the strength of her arms from her father as well. 

“Oh sorry, my lord.  My Blue Star is always telling me I should pull my punches now that I’m an old man.  But I tell her no man of honor pretends to be weaker than he is and no woman should either.” 

Jaime smiled at the fond father’s affectionate tone.  “Lady Brienne has learned your lessons well, my lord.  I’ve the bumps and bruises to attest to it.” 

“Allow me to show my gratitude for your hard work by offering you a bit of luncheon in my tent, Lord Lannister.  It won’t be any cooler than it is out here, but we’ll be out of the sun.  Whatever business you have to discuss with me will only go down easier with some good food and a bit more of Storm’s End ale.” 

“I’d be honored, Lord Selwyn.” 

While they dined on the small, succulent crabs that were found only in the Strait of Tarth, he and Lord Selwyn made the sort of small talk that passed between men with responsibilities for lands and people.  Though Tarth was a much smaller holding than the vast lands of the West, Lord Selwyn was articulate and knowledgeable and Jaime was only slightly impatient to get to the purpose of his visit. 

“And where are you off to, Ser Jaime, now that Robert Baratheon’s extravaganza is done?” 

“I must go to King’s Landing for short time to discuss some matters with His Grace.  After that, since I am on this side of the kingdoms, I thought to visit my brother and his family in Braavos.  I should have another niece or nephew by the time I arrive there.  On my return journey, I’ll travel to the Eyrie to see my late sister’s children as well.  Her eldest will be leaving soon to squire for Lord Brandon Stark.  I would like to see him before he is gone all the way to Winterfell.” 

“Ah, children are a blessing.  I thank the Seven every day for my sweet girl.”  An unexpectedly sly look briefly crossed Lord Selwyn’s roughhewn face.  “You should give due consideration to getting some of your own, Ser Jaime.  They are such a comfort in a man’s advancing years.” 

_What?  Does he ...  What does he mean, “advancing years”?_

**_“The difference in our ages could not be ignored by a fond father.”  Jaime admonished himself.  “But we Lannister men are long lived when we manage to avoid apoplexy and crossbow bolts.  Uncle Kevan might have another twenty name days in him.  I could have shared 30 or 40 happy years with Brienne if that had been my fate.”_ **  

“I have not been fortunate in my matrimonial efforts, Lord Selwyn.  And as I have _matured_ I have been less willing to settle for an arrangement of material advantage.  Only a marriage based on mutual respect and affection will satisfy me these days.” 

“My own wife was the light and love of my life.  I cannot blame you for wanting the same.”  The Evenstar shrugged his shoulder as though throwing off the topic and moving on. 

“But that cannot be what you wished to discuss with me, Ser Jaime.  What service can Tarth do for the Warden of the West?” 

“You may know my brother and I are deeply involved in shipping between Essos and Westeros.  The storms last year were damaging to our fleet.  We could have used safe harborage outside Shipbreaker Bay.  I was hoping I could make a detour to Tarth after I finish my tasks in King’s Landing to evaluate if it could meet our needs.  We could also use another market for our goods and I’m sure you could use the trade we could bring to your island.” 

“Tarth is a small place, my lord, though we do have deep water harbors.  It would take a deal of work and coin to make them useable for the purposes you propose.  Tarth has beautiful hardwoods for furniture making that we’ve had difficulty exporting in the past so the forests are almost overgrown.  I’m sure if we put our heads together, we might find more of Tarth’s blessings that could win the Lannister interest.” 

Jaime rose and offered his hand in agreement. 

“Done then.  I’ll send a raven when I am more sure of when I shall arrive.  I hope I can claim the hospitality of Evenfall Hall during my visit to your island?” 

“I would not have it any other way, Ser Jaime.  Although, now that I think on it, I do not travel as easily as I used to.  My old bones ache if I spend too many hours on horseback.  I hope that you will not be insulted if Brienne takes responsibility for showing you around Tarth.  She is well trained in the economics of our home, as she is my only heir.  Is that satisfactory?” 

Jaime stopped himself from grinning like a fool. 

“That would be entirely satisfactory, my lord.  Entirely.”

***

The days in King’s Landing dragged for Jaime.  He was anxious to be off to Tarth to pursue his maid.  When they had exchanged farewells, Brienne had seemed pleased at the idea of his visit to Tarth.  She was looking forward to introducing him to Ser Goodwin.  She gave him one of her shy smiles when he took her hand and pressed it between both of his own for a brief moment.  Jaime would have liked to have answered that smile with a kiss, but knew that it was far too early in the courtship of his swordswench to take such a liberty.

Jaime had been frank with his little brother regarding the reason for delaying his arrival in Braavos.  He had been stuck in King’s Landing long enough to receive a lengthy reply filled with advice on wooing from a man who had been married to his first and only lover for over a decade. Tyrion had also included some words of wisdom from Tysha, mainly addressing how overwhelming a Lion can be, even when he isn’t trying.  Jaime took her words to heart far more than Tyrion’s.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. The Way Less Traveled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime arrives at Evenfall Hall to pursue his lady.

It was bright and blustery day when the Lady Joanna sailed into the harbor town below Evenfall Hall.  Jaime felt his hair being blown about by the wind as he stood in the bow, straining his eyes for any glimpse of who might be waiting on the dock.  It has been almost five months since he had last seen Brienne.  Would she answer his prayers and come down to greet him?

A dispute had arisen between some Westerlands border lords and their counterparts in the Riverlands that had required the King’s intervention to resolve, Edmure Tully being such a blundering fool.  Then Rhaegar decided he would once again try to convince Jaime to join his small council.  Jaime couldn’t tell the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms that he didn’t have the time or patience to massage His Grace’s vanity before refusing.  That there was a wench in Tarth Jaime was aching to pursue.  He finally dropped enough hints to Queen Lyanna that she spoke to her husband on his behalf.  It was with a twinkle in his eye that Rhaegar finally gave Jaime permission to leave the court. 

Over the many weeks that passed, Jaime was scrupulous in keeping Lord Selwyn informed of his continuing interest in visiting, always including a remark or two for Brienne.  Still he worried that she might have come to dismiss their growing closeness at Storm’s End as simply a way he’d alleviated the tedium of the long idle hours at Robert’s tourney, a thing forgotten as soon as Jaime had other ways to distract himself.  Brienne’s lack of confidence could easily have convinced her of that.

Once he had Rhaegar’s leave to depart King’s Landing, Jaime was on the next ship headed for the Stormlands.  He had hoped that since it was a Lannister ship and he _was_ a Lannister, he could persuade the captain to divert to Tarth before continuing on to Storm’s End.  It was ill fortune to find a man adamant that his cargo took priority and would be at Storm’s End on schedule.  His would not be the vessel that damaged the reputation of _Tyrion_ Lannister as the most reliable master of ships on the thirteen seas.

The series of storms that kept them in harbor and Jaime once again a guest of Robert Baratheon was just the way his luck was running.  If Jaime had been inclined to gossiping, he would have delighted in being one of the first to learn that the new Lady Baratheon was not taking her husband’s rampant infidelity happily.  After but a few months of marriage, Robert was back to his habits of several whores at once and Lady Margaery was prowling Storm’s End like a cat in heat.  After his second night as a guest, Jaime took to using a heavy desk to bar his door against his hostess.  If Robert Baratheon got himself a “true born” heir at long last, that child was not going to come out looking like a lion. 

But, the gods be good, at last he was here.  The island was everything that he had heard.  The blue of the waters was deep and clear, as deep and clear as he remembered it’s lady’s eyes to be.  The mountains rose sharply, a grand spine to the island, covered with deep green forest, only the very tops were naked rock.  Jaime thought he could dimly spy a waterfall flowing like a lacy veil spilling down a mountainside, sparkling in the sun.  How soon, he wondered, could he persuade Brienne to show him the delights of her isle in addition to the potential harbors and resources?

As the deck hands brought the ship into port, Jaime consulted briefly with his captain.  Due to the delay from the storms, the Joanna would sail on to Essos immediately, rather than waiting for Jaime to conclude his business on Tarth.  Jaime hoped to be visiting Evenfall Hall for some weeks and Tyrion would not hear of keeping one of their ships idle for so long, not even to advance his brother’s love life.  Lannister ships passed through Shipbreaker Bay often enough that Jaime would be able to get a raven to one of the captains easily if things did not go as he hoped they would with Brienne.  Worse came to the worst, there were many hall and lords on the mainland coast who would happily play host to Lord Lannister on short notice. 

Jaime knew, from all the years that his father had drilled the power structure of Westeros into his head, that there was but one notable house on Tarth.  Lord Selwyn had several lower houses as his bannermen and there were some prosperous merchant families on the island.  But most of the population were small folk: fishermen, quarrymen, wood cutters, as well as the usual farmers, tradesmen and craftsmen who kept everyone else supplied with food, clothing, shelter and all the other necessities. 

Jaime had hoped that his presence on Tarth would go largely unnoticed and he could spend his time furthering his friendship with Brienne and her father.  He had not expected to find a large welcoming party waiting for him on the docks. 

The group was led by Lord Selwyn.  Jaime searched the faces and easily found Brienne towering over of a gaggle of young women, hanging back with the sourest looking septa he had ever laid eyes on.  Brienne’s face flamed under the beating sun, the brisk breeze doing nothing to cool her high color.

 _How much of that color is from the heat and how much from the humiliation of that gods awful dress you’ve been saddled with, my lady?_  

In addition to a hideous pink gown, Brienne’s straw-colored hair had been tortured into curls that laid lank against her perspiring face.  She looked as acutely uncomfortable as she had that first evening at Storm’s End. 

And some of those little bitches were obviously making mock of her.  That would not be allowed to continue. 

“Lord Lannister.”  Selwyn Tarth met Jaime halfway down the dock and extended his hand.  “Tarth is happy to welcome you.” 

“Lord Selwyn.  Thank you.  The beauty of your island has not been exaggerated.”  Jaime replied, returning the lord’s hearty handshake.  “But perhaps the size of your population has been.”  Jaime added more quietly. 

“I am sorry, Ser Jaime.”  Selwyn replied, equally quiet.  “I made the mistake of telling an acquaintance you would be visiting my home, and suddenly the skies of the Stormlands were thick with ravens from folk I’ve barely met requesting the honor of visiting my isle.  Many arrived before I could respond yay or nay, with their marriageable daughters and ambitious sons in tow.  And with the storms, none of them have been able to depart.  Your ship isn’t going back to the mainland by chance?”  He added with a grimace. 

“No, it is off to Essos as soon as the tide changes.  So many … observers may make concluding our business more difficult.  But I will persevere nonetheless.”  Jaime promised Selwyn and himself. 

They reached the crowd on the dock.  Several people pushed forward, all hoping to get the first words with the famous Lion of Lannister. 

Jaime stopped them with a look that would have done his father proud. 

“Lady Brienne.”  He said, the sheer force of his gaze moved fathers and daughters alike from his path to the lady.  Then his eyes softened and a smile lit his face.  Jaime reached out to her.  He knew he could not kiss her strong, broad hand without having to perform the same courtesy for every other maiden gathered, but how he wished he could show her that mark of his affection.  He put those feelings into his voice, making it deep and warm as he addressed her.  “It is very good to see you again.” 

“Ser Jaime.”  Brienne whispered, with an awkward half bow, half curtsy. 

Jaime heard a disgusted snort and some tittering from the women clustered around Brienne.  He marked the offenders in his memory.  He would have some pointed comments to make later about the courtesy owed to one’s hostess.  For now, he only wished to chase the pain from Brienne’s eyes. 

Jaime kept Brienne’s hand between his own.  “It would please me greatly, my lady, if you would show me around this town of yours.” 

“But my father …” Brienne began.

“My captain has some business to attend to with Lord Selwyn.  It should not take long, but I have been too idle on my journey and would welcome the chance to stretch my legs a bit before the ride to Evenfall Hall.” 

“My lord …” one voice interrupted. 

“Ser Jaime …” came another. 

“My lords, my ladies, I am quite sure we will all become acquainted this evening at dinner.”  Jaime added a bit of a bite to the courteous tone of his voice.  “But I am here to see Tarth.  With Lord Selwyn occupied which of you could be more qualified than the Lady Brienne?”  The imperiousness that was bred into generations of Lannisters made another appearance as he gazed around the crowd.

“Of course, my lord.”  One man of better sense than most replied for all.  “We shall see you this evening.” 

As the crowd moved away, Jaime heard a dark-haired maiden who could not have been more the ten and six whine, “But, Papa …” before she was shushed. 

The septa however, remained firmly fixed at Brienne’s side. 

“You shall not go off with Brienne unaccompanied, Lord Lannister.”  

Gods, the woman’s voice was a high-pitched screech, like metal grinding on metal. 

“Strolling about the town while we wait for Lord Selwyn is hardly making off with her, Septa …” 

“This is Septa Roelle, Ser Jaime.”  Brienne whispered under the septa’s gimlet eye. 

“Lady Brienne was not so closely chaperoned at Lord Robert’s tourney.  Why would you think that she would require it here in her own home?” 

“I was ill and unable to attend the tourney, Lord Lannister.  Otherwise I would have felt it my duty to oversee the girl’s behavior.” 

“Your oversight was not needed.  Lady Brienne acquitted herself admirably at Storm’s End.  She was a credit to her father and to Tarth.”  Jaime turned to flash his most dazzling smile on Brienne before turning a cold face back to the septa.  “Septa Roelle, I suggest you consult with your lord as to where he would have you turn your attention: unnecessarily trailing behind his estimable daughter and an anointed knight or at Evenfall Hall, helping with preparations to receive me.  Should _Lord Selwyn_ decide your time is best spent here you should have no trouble catching up to us.” 

With that Jaime offered his arm to Brienne and left the septa sputtering on the dock. 

***

Jaime had expected that he would have a battle to win Brienne.  But he thought he would be fighting only Brienne’s self-doubt and reticence, not a gaggle of intrusive noblemen and their ill-bred wives and children as well.   Not a septa who seemed to have been belched from the Crone’s hell. 

Meals passed in tedious conversation with whichever visitor felt it was his turn at Lord Lannister.  Jaime barely got a word in edgewise, as one after another they boasted about the beauty of their daughters, the valor of their sons and their superiority in every way to House Tarth.  Jaime had to make due with a few words exchanged with Brienne as they passed one another on the way to the table. 

Jaime was able to spend only a few uninterrupted hours with Lord Selwyn as well.  Those were spent in discussing the business that had ostensibly brought Jaime to Tarth and sending out oblique hints about a possible future for Brienne which would intimately involve Jaime. 

One such conversation came as quite a shock. 

“I do worry for my Blue Star’s future, Jaime.”  Selwyn sat heavily in a worn armchair in his solar after shutting the door on several of his more insistent visitors.  “I’ve been approached in the last weeks by two of these minor lords with sons to marry off.  But after the last fiasco, I promised my girl that I would not make another alliance for her hand.” 

“The last fiasco?”  Jaime asked, not ready to deal with the question of which of those pissants thought he was worthy of Brienne. 

“Brienne has been betrothed three times.  The first was made when she was a babe, to the son of my wife’s girlhood friend, but the boy and much of his family were taken by an illness.  My own son died not long after Brienne’s betrothed.  Hoping to secure the future of Tarth, I made an alliance with one of Lord Connington’s many cousins.  The little shit stain took one look at my Blue Star, with all her goodness and strength, and rejected her on the spot.  Her humiliation broke my heart.  I was happy enough to let things lie for a bit.  Then, two years ago, I took a fall off my horse.  I wasn’t badly injured, but I feared what might have happened to Brienne if I had been.  I contacted an old mentor of mine to ask about possible alliances.  I meant for him to suggest some likely young man, but he misunderstood me and thought I was offering Brienne to him.  I admired him back when we were serving Lord Robert’s father.  I thought I could rely on him to take care of my girl.  What a disaster that was.  Humphrey had changed out of all proportion since I had last seen him.  He actually threatened to _chastise_ my Brienne unless she gave up the sword and acted like his idea of a proper woman.  So, I let her challenge him for her own hand.  She sent him packing with a broken collarbone and good riddance to him.” 

“It was grand to see my girl defend herself that way.  But now Brienne’s hand is her own to bestow, not mine.  If I tried to explain that to any of those fools out there who think their paltry get is worthy of my Blue Star …  Their boys might pester her even more than they do now.” 

“No one will ‘pester’ Brienne as long as I am here to aid her, Selwyn.  That I do promise you.  If the choice is to be Brienne’s, I will make sure everyone respects that.”  _Even myself._   Jaime hoped that he was up to the challenge. 

***

 It took care and plotting but Jaime finally managed to have time and privacy with Brienne. 

As Selwyn had explained at Storm’s End, it was Brienne who was his escort as he travelled Tarth, looking for opportunities for trade and possible harbors for ships.  Strangely, the minor lords of Tarth had not battened upon Evenfall when the great Lannister lord had come calling.  Jaime and Brienne was received in their homes with courtesy and warm welcomes, the bannermen of Tarth showing far better manners than the Storm Lords haunting Evenfall.  Brienne and he rode out every day to call on them, on merchants and foresters and tradesmen.  At first there was a great crowd accompanying them.  But this was not like pleasure riding or even a hunt.  Jaime made sure he and Brienne rode hard and then stopped for long, boring conversations that excluded most of their companions.  Brienne showed that her father had tutored her well in the politics and economics of her island home.  First the young ladies abandoned them, discouraged by Jaime’s absorption in his business and his guide.  The young men drifted away, shocked that a ride with the Golden Lion could be so very tedious.  After a few trips, even the determined older lords stopped joining them and several made arrangements to depart for home.  Whatever they had hoped to gain from Lord Lannister or Lord Selwyn, they accepted they were not going to accomplish it. 

Once they were free of their hangers on, Jaime maneuvered Brienne into adding pleasure as well as business to their trips around her island.  It was a pure joy to be in her company again.  They quickly regained the camaraderie they had shared at Storm’s End.  Touring her childhood home allowed Jaime to fully see the woman Brienne was, to glimpse the woman she could grow to be.  And the sight enchanted him.  On their long rambles, they came to know each other well, and Jaime saw the promise of his feelings at Storm’s End flower into a love he hoped would sustain him for the rest of his days. 

Jaime always had Brienne to himself on the training ground, as well.  He made time for a few of the visiting lords and lordlings who had some measure of talent with a sword, but the last bout of the day was reserved for Lady Brienne.  The men who had not attended Robert’s tourney stopped scoffing after witnessing the first bout. 

Then, one especially warm morning, Jaime made the miscalculation of wearing a short tunic to spar in. 

At Storm’s End, Jaime had gotten used to the arousal he experienced when he and Brienne sparred.  He had quickly learned to recognize the signs of his excitement and bring himself back under control.  But that was when he only liked Brienne.  Now that he knew he wanted her to be his, and to be hers in return, matters were more urgent.  And conspicuous. 

He heard a few laughs that day and wryly shook it off.  But the word was passed from man to man and over the next days, more and more of them came to observe Lord Lannister’s rampant lion.  Even his best glare did little silence the laughter and japes of those who spent more time observing his breeches than his swordplay. 

Jaime felt badly for the embarrassment Brienne might be feeling, but not badly enough to curtail their activities.  Jaime took matters in hand more frequently than he had since he was a green boy, yet he still ended each morning’s training with his cock yearning as ardently for his lady as his heart did.  

Jaime grew concerned that he had misjudged his lady as Brienne became remote on their daily travels.  She began to invite others to join them again.  When they returned to the Hall, she disappeared into the flock of young hens who would not be dislodged from Tarth no matter how pointedly he ignored them.  Her bitch of septa glared at Jaime and whispered in Brienne’s ear.  One persistent little minx was constantly worming her way to his side, pushed forward by her parents, by the septa, as Brienne receded further and further from him. 

One morning Brienne did not show up at all. 

***

 The seventh day of Lady Brienne avoiding him was too much for Jaime’s patience.  He did not know if he could regain the ground he had somehow lost with Brienne.  But Jaime could feel her gaze following him about the Hall.  He could see the pain in her beautiful eyes when she thought he was not looking.  If Jaime knew anything about women, he would swear she had not taken him in disgust for his lack of control when they sparred.  She often seemed to drift towards him as though drawn by a lodestone, until she caught herself and drew away.  There was something else going on, some obstacle he did not understand.  He had to talk to her, but the bloody wench could not be found for a private conversation. 

If she was about the Hall, she was in the company of the remaining young noblewomen, their mothers and that sour faced septa.  Misery was writ large across her features as, clad in one awful gown after another, she strolled or stitched or sat mutely among the gossiping ladies. 

More often she was simply absent.  In vain each day, Jaime searched the places that she had shared with him: her favorite cove, the beach where shells, driftwood and sea glass were strewn like gifts from some ancient god of the deep, the orchard that grew the sweetest peaches he’d ever tasted, the forest glen where she gathered wild greens and mushrooms for the Evenfall kitchens.

Brienne had spoken of a high meadow in the interior of the island where wild flowers grew in abundance, but they had not made it there before she had begun avoiding him.  He kept that in mind as a final place to pursue her.  A coin in the palm of a stableboy ensured that Jaime would know the next time Brienne rode in that direction. 

When the lad tipped Jaime a wink at the training ground, Jaime knew his time had come.  He was determined that this was the day he would have it out with Brienne.  He would lay out his intentions in plain Common Tongue and win her or abandon his attempts at courtship.  He sought out Goodwin, the master at arms. 

“Ser Goodwin, I’ve heard tell of a lovely meadow in the hills beyond the river.  I’ve a notion to ride out to see it.  Can you direct me?”  Jaime asked, his voice as casual as he could manage. 

“I think I know the meadow that you seek.  Some of our young visitors traveled there a week or so before you arrived on Tarth.  I’m sure they would be glad to accompany you and show you the way.  Shall I send for someone, Lord Jaime?”  The older man shot him a sly look. 

“NO!” Jaime cleared his throat after his outburst.  “I mean, Ser, all here have been attentive and courteous, but I am unused to so much company.  I have a yearning for some solitude.” 

“Solitude or a more singular companion, My Lord?  A certain rider headed in that direction earlier today.  Perhaps there is a particular goal you have in mind?” 

Jaime sighed.  How could his intentions be transparent to everyone _except_ the one who truly counted? 

“Just so, Ser Goodwin.  And I will track my quarry to the ends of the isle if need be.” 

“The meadow is not too difficult to find, though you will not arrive there until near mid-day.  I’ll have one of the boys talk to cook about a bit of luncheon and some good wine.   Enough for two, should your pursuit be successful.”  

Then Goodwin’s face lost its good humor.  A stern and steely gaze fixed on Jaime.  

“Know this, Ser, she is the sweetest, truest soul the gods have ever produced.  If you harm her in any way, after Lord Selwyn is finished with you, whatever is left will be dealing with me.” 

“No harm will ever come to Brienne at my hands, I promise you as I’ve promised her father.  If the lady says no, then that is that.  But if she is yet undecided I will do all in my power to persuade her to my side and never to leave it again.” 

“Very well, then.  I’ll have a horse saddled and draw you a map.” 

After a few wrong turns, Jaime found Brienne’s hiding place just as the sun was at it’s zenith.  The light danced on the waterfall and pool at the edge of the meadow.  Brienne sat on a blanket in the lush grass, her hair and tunic damp from what must have been a late morning swim. 

Jaime was disappointed to have missed it. 

He had a moment to appreciate that, like a maid in a tale, Brienne was weaving a flower crown as she softly sang a ballad of love and loss. 

Jaime had thought he was already as deeply in love with her as was possible.  He was wrong. 

Brienne froze when she heard the jingling of his horse’s tack.  Though her back was to him, Jaime could see her tense in preparation, her hand moving towards the sword at her side. 

“It’s just me, Brienne.  Nothing to fear.  No need for swords unless you fancy the dance you’ve been avoiding these past mornings.” 

Jaime quickly hobbled his horse next to Brienne’s mare.  Brienne stayed turned away from him when he approached where she was seated. 

Jaime knelt before her in the grass and placed a hand under her chin to raise her face.  “You’ve been avoiding me, my lady.  I thought we were better friends than that.” 

Brienne jerked away and stood up so rapidly that Jaime almost over balanced.  In a strangled voice unlike her own she said, “It was pointed out to me that in spending so much time with you, I was being discourteous to my other guests.” 

“Pointed out by whom, my lady?  That septa who makes brimstone seem sweet?  One of those girls who leave claw marks on me when they take my arm?  One of their mothers?” 

“Someone who was correct that it was unbecoming for me to attempt to monopolize your attention.” 

“Unbecoming?  In what way?  You have been my guide as I saw to my business here, a task assigned you by your own lord father.  You have been the only training partner worth my steel, one of the best I have ever had.  You have been my best companion.  How could that be unbecoming?” 

“We are unequal, my lord.  It is obvious to any who observe us.”  

The back of Brienne’s neck was flushed as her voice shook.  Jaime had to see her face.  He had to look into her eyes to see what lay behind her words. 

Grasping her shoulders, Jaime turned her as gently as he could.  He darted his head to finally catch her gaze, which seemed determined to light anywhere but on his. 

“This is sophistry, Brienne.  You cannot possibly believe what that flock of clucking hens is telling you.  I know you are too wise for that.  You love sparring with me too much to give it up their say-so.  What is the true reason?  Why have you been absent from the training ground?”

Something in Brienne seemed to break.  Fire and life came back into her eyes. 

“Why did I stop coming to the training ground?  Why!?  Do you not hear the laughter, the japes?  Every morning worse and worse.  I expect that in other places, but not here in my home where people know me, respect me.  Yet the sight of the great, lumbering cow battling the golden knight was so ridiculous that even the people who are supposed to …” Brienne’s voice cracked with her emotions, but she breathed deep and continued on “to love me could not help but laugh at me and mock me.”

Jaime held onto she shoulders even as she fought him. 

 _I am strong enough, my lady.  Strong enough for you._

“It was not you they were laughing at, you idiot girl.  It was I.  Every day louder and louder, mocking me for the absurdity of my condition.” 

“Why would anyone mock you, Ser Jaime?  You are as a knight from a song.  That is your condition.  How could anyone mock that?” 

 _She is so fierce a warrior, yet still an innocent maid._  

“How many songs have you heard about a knight with a tentpole in his breeches?  Good gods, girl, did you never notice I could barely stand upright when we finished a dance?” 

“That was because we are well matched and neither of us will yield before we are spent.”

Jaime choked down his reaction to her unwitting choice of words.  If she felt any mockery from him, he would lose her forever. 

“We are well matched, Brienne.  Yet I was not spent.  I am more aroused by sparring with you than I have ever been by any soft, perfumed ladies of the court.  By the end of our bouts I am hard as the Rock itself.  Every man and boy could tell that, and they were laughing at my pain.  And perhaps a bit laughing at your blindness to my desire for you.” 

Brienne’s jaw had dropped when he began his explanation.  Her eyes were wide and staring straight into Jaime’s.  But he could not tell if she was appalled, intrigued or what she might be feeling. 

“Even the servants know to have an ice-cold bath waiting for me after we spar.” 

Brienne snapped back into herself with a shake of her head. 

“That cannot be true.”  She whispered. 

“It is, dear wench.  The business of harborage could have been easily settled within days of my arrival, but I have drawn things out until your father can only laugh at my evasions.  I have lingered on Tarth for you, Brienne.  I came here thinking that we might be well suited for each other.  Every day I have grown ever more convinced.”  Jaime reached for her, but she backed a step away. 

“Your father loves you, Brienne.  He will not inflict another unwanted betrothal on you.  I’ve been trying to gain your consent for days, while you have run from me because of a misunderstanding.” 

“You can’t want to marry me.  You are Ser Jaime, the Lion of Lannister.  You could have any woman in the kingdoms as your wife.  You can’t desire _me._ ” 

“If I can have any woman in the kingdoms, does that mean that I can have you?  I do want to marry you, Brienne.  And, gods in the seven heavens and souls in the seven hells, I do desire you every moment of every day.”  Jaime move quickly and captured her hand in his.  He pressed it to his lips as his eyes sought hers, burning with the sincerity of his feelings. 

Brienne softened for a moment, but then squared her shoulders. 

“Words are wind, Ser Jaime.  Actions show the truth.  If you desire me so much, prove it.”  She threw the words like a gauntlet in challenge. 

“What?”  Jaime choked.  This was not his plan for a reasonable discussion in plain Common Tongue. 

“Prove it, or leave me be.” 

Jaime adjusted his plan as a wicked grin appeared on his face. 

“With pleasure, love.  With pleasure.”

***

 Jaime lay quietly in the balmy afternoon.  Dozing, cradled in his arms, was the woman he loved.

 Brienne’s sapphire eyes had widened in shock when Jaime took up her reckless challenge.  But she had gamely laid down on the blanket, raised her tunic a few inches up her thighs and braced herself for he knew not what imagined horrors.

 “Would you prefer me on my stomach, my lord?” She whispered, her beautiful eyes scrunched closed.

 Jaime cradled her cheek in his hand and turned her face to his.

“Why would you ask me such a thing, Brienne?” 

“My septa said that my lord husband might find it easier that way.” 

_That evil bitch is going to the deepest of the seven hells and I may send her there myself._

Brienne did not need his anger.  She needed his love. 

“What would a septa know of what a man wants?  Let me show you what it is that I want.” 

It had taken all his patience and lover’s skill to elicit moans and gasps of surprised pleasure as he worshiped Brienne’s body.  With his cock at last poised to enter her and take her maidenhead, Jaime had made one last attempt at gallantry and groaned out an offer to wait until their marriage night.  But she dug her fingers into his sweat slick back and whispered again. 

“Prove it.” 

They had made a good beginning together.  Jaime sighed with relief that they had ended her maidenhood gently, in this sunlit meadow with the scent of crushed sweet grass and wildflowers heavy around them and a warm breeze drying the sweat on their entwined bodies.  Thank the gods it had been here, rather than fast and fierce against the wall of the armory or in a stable stall. 

There would be plenty of time for fierce armory fucking in their future.  Jaime chuckled as he thought that the people of Casterly Rock and Evenfall Hall would learn to knock on any door that concealed him and his lady. 

Brienne raised her head from it’s resting place on his shoulder and opened her eyes, seeking his gaze at the rumble of his laugh.  He smiled at her sweetly, a smile he had never before given a lover, and pressed her head back onto his shoulder. 

One hand tangled in the hair at her nape and caressed down her long, elegant neck to her strong, freckled shoulder.  His fingers, his lips, his tongue had charted those golden spots on skin blushed pink with passion and maiden’s modesty.  The full mapping would be the study of a lifetime. 

Jaime’s other hand had been playing idly with her taut nipple, keeping her arousal at a simmer, keeping any possible regret at bay.  He stroked down her body, counting her ribs, measuring the slight curve of her waist.  A finger dipped briefly into her navel, eliciting an unexpected giggle, a joyous sound he wanted to hear again and again. 

Jaime’s hand came to her strong, flat abdomen and rested there a moment, flexing once or twice before continuing down to the top of her muscled thigh and finishing the long caress at the lips of her sweet, pink cunt, still damp and sticky with her passion’s juices and her maiden’s blood.  And his seed. 

A chivalrous gentleman would wet a cloth in the pool and cleanse her.  But Jaime reveled in this evidence of their joining. 

It had been years since he had let himself finish inside a woman.  Even using the ingenious Lyseni sheaths that Tyrion supplied him from Essos, Jaime did not spill his seed profligately.  After his first flush of reckless youth, Jaime was determined he would never be forced into marriage to give a child a true name.  Nor would he leave any children branded by the name Hill.  He would not be another Robert Baratheon, or gods forbid, Walder Frey, unable or unwilling to master his appetites.  Jaime took great care in his sexual encounters and any woman who objected did not remain his lover for long. 

But he had come endlessly inside Brienne, until he felt spent and emptied and radiantly satisfied.  His babe might be planted in her even now and he grinned smugly at the thought. 

However … 

“We must set the wedding day soon, wench.  I plan to do this every chance we get, any time you’re willing.  Best we wed before someone catches us and your father kills me.” 

_Or your belly swells and your father kills me._

Brienne’s hand pulled sharply on a curl of his chest hair. 

“It’s Brienne.  Not wench.  Ser Jaime.” 

“It’s wench until it’s wife.  And I’m just Jaime, your Jaime.” 

“It’s Ser Jaime until it’s husband, then.”  She smiled at him just a bit cheekily, her blue eyes sparkling like the sun on the sea. 

Jaime’s idly playing fingers grew purposeful.  He nipped at her earlobe, before pressing open mouthed kisses down her neck. 

“Again?”  Brienne asked, surprised. 

“Again, if you will permit it.” 

Their second time went even better than the first.  Afterward they washed and swam in the pool.  Jaime drew Brienne into mischievous play and she learned that two people matched in height can easily fuck standing up as well as lying down. 

Seated on the blanket, with Brienne clad again in her damp tunic, but Jaime still as naked as his name day, they shared the luncheon from Jaime’s saddlebags.  Blushing brighter than the sun, Brienne stole glances at his rising cock and shyly asked if he wanted to have her again. 

“I want you again and endlessly, wench.  But this is new to you and I am not a small man.  I doubt that you could take me again without discomfort.  We have a lifetime of happy fucking before us.  This,” he gestured wryly at his cock, “will wait until another day.” 

“The ladies whisper that men cannot bear that condition.  They say that it is painful to you and men will do anything to relieve it.  Is that not true?”  Brienne extended a single finger towards his burgeoning manhood and drew back with a gasp as it rose more. 

“It is not the most comfortable state, but it will resolve itself presently, or I will resolve it before we ride home.” 

“But how, Ser, if not … if not inside me?”  Brienne’s face was almost Lannister crimson, yet she did not avoid his eye.  “Show me how, my lord.” 

It was a day for Jaime to be shocked by his lady’s, his lover’s boldness.  Then his wicked, filthy grin spread across his face once more.  He took Brienne’s hand and brought it to his lips, then swiped his tongue across her palm, once, twice, thrice, before he began to guide it downward. 

“You are a wench in a million, my love.  How was I so lucky as to find you?” 

Brienne squeaked - there could be no other word for it - as she felt his heat and hardness against her fingers.  “No man looks at me as you do.  No man feels for me what you do.  We are both lucky, I think, Ser Jaime.” 

***

With the sun low in the sky, Jaime stood at her stirrup as Brienne mounted her horse for the trip back to Evenfall.  He saw her wince as she settled in the saddle. 

Jaime preened, there was no other word for it, like a large, self-satisfied cat. 

“Perhaps you’ve had enough riding for one day, my lady.” 

Brienne kicked out lightly against his chest, then set her horse to gallop. 

Night had fallen when they walked their horses through the gates of Evenfall Hall, as perfectly in harmony as two separate souls can be.

 

 


	5. Reaching Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime’s daydream soars as he imagines his life married to Brienne.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This needs to come with a warning. It’s so sweet and fluffy it may rot your teeth.

Jaime and Brienne wed in the sept at Evenfall Hall one month to the day after their afternoon in the meadow.

 Jaime would have preferred to have immediately spoken to Lord Selwyn and gone straight to the sept that very evening.  However the fact that Jaime was a Lord Paramount and Brienne was the heir to a small, but prosperous and strategically valuable island could not be overlooked.  There were legal matters that had to be settled before they could join their hands now and forever, as they had already joined their hearts.

 The practicalities did not prevent an announcement at that night’s dinner table.  Jaime’s future good father took great joy, and not a little satisfaction, in telling the hangers on still haunting Evenfall that Lord Lannister had shown the good sense to choose Selwyn’s only living child, the jewel of the Sapphire Isle, for his lady and his love.  And not one of the soft, silly bitches that they had been throwing at him went unsaid, but was still heard by all in attendance.

 The mass exodus of guests over the next few days prohibited the necessary time and privacy to be closeted in Lord Selwyn’s solar to hash out the details of a betrothal contract that would have to be presented to the King and to Robert Baratheon as Brienne’s liege lord.  But there were still things for Jaime and Brienne to do to prepare for their future.

 On the ride home from the meadow, seeking a topic that would not lead to him pulling Brienne from her horse and taking her right there on the trail, Jaime brought up the subject of Septa Roelle.  They spoke at length about Brienne’s treatment at her hands.  Jaime calmly gave her his insight on what he himself had observed.  He also provided information that Brienne was not aware of.  Once Brienne came to her decision, Jaime let his true, uncensored opinion of the septa flow.

The next morning, when their dance on the training ground was finished, Jaime gave Brienne a seemingly chaste kiss on the cheek.  No one could see him tease her flushed skin with the tip of his tongue as his hands wandered and drew one of Brienne’s shocked little squeaks.  Thus fortified, he sent her on her way to confront Roelle.  To await Brienne’s return, Jaime retreated to the armory, passing the time alternately sharpening his sword and pacing.

 It was longer than he hoped but less time than he feared before Brienne joined him there.  She slammed the door behind her and leaned against it, panting for breath.

“Wench, are you well?”  Jaime asked going to join her at the door and slipping his arms around her.  “What happened?”

“Oh, Ser Jaime,” Brienne replied, “It was glorious.”

 Jaime rose up slightly on his toes so he could rest his forehead against hers.  His hands swept over Brienne’s back.  “Come and tell me all.”

 They sat cross legged on the floor, facing one another, their knees touching.  Jaime did not want to miss one flicker in Brienne’s eyes, one expression that crossed her face.

 “I had one of the servants tell her to come to me in my room.  I have never done that before.”

 ***

Brienne sat on her bed, rubbing her hands together nervously as she waited for Septa Roelle.  Brienne had not seen the septa since the announcement of her betrothal to Ser Jaime last night at dinner.  That dark haired little jade, who had been the cruelest of the visiting ladies and the most determined in pursuit of Jaime, had not taken the news of her quarry’s betrothal to another at all well.  Apparently, once Lady Rina had departed the dining room, there had been hysterics, the throwing of small, breakable objects and a threat to hold her breath until she died.  The maester’s assistance was needed to settle her down and Septa Roelle remained with her and her mother into the early hours of the morning.

Brienne saw no sign of Roelle’s habitual, intrusive morning inspection of the bedchamber while Brienne was at the training ground.  Brienne’s linen from the previous day was still to be collected, neatly folded as Brienne had been taught to do, waiting to be passed on to one of the maids.  Perhaps she would never have to suffer the septa’s snooping again.

Brienne practiced her battle breathing to steady her nerve. 

_She does not have my best interests at heart and never has.  She should be dismissed just for that.  I can do this.  I am a warrior.  I am a woman.  I am a … a lover.  I love and am loved in return._

Brienne repeated those words over and over and her confidence grew. 

The septa burst into the room without knocking.

“What is it you want, girl?  I am very busy this morning.”

Brienne took one last deep, calming breath.  “Thank you for joining me, Septa.  I am aware that Lady Rina is in some distress.  I would have visited her, but I thought my presence might only make things worse.”

“Of course your presence would make her worse.  You’ve no talent for the sickroom and little tact anywhere.”  The septa bit out.

“I am tactful enough to know that I am the last person Lady Rina wants to see.”  Brienne replied sharply.

Brienne saw Septa Roelle’s head jerk as if she had been slapped.  It was the first time Brienne had answered her back and it felt wonderful.

“I shall not keep you, Septa, from your obligations.  Now that I am betrothed, I feel that Tarth no longer requires your services.  If I was going to gain anything more from your tutelage, I would have learned it long ago.”

“How dare you!  How dare you try to dismiss me like some scullion, like some common servant!”

Brienne’s heart pounded, but she would stand strong.  Jaime had helped her see that she owed this woman nothing.  All the misery of her growing years had been compounded by Roelle’s derision.  In the last weeks, every doubt, every qualm she had over Jaime’s intentions had been pounced upon and magnified by the septa’s acid tongue.

“But you are a servant, are you not, Septa?  A servant of the Seven, sworn to their service and your service to them here on Tarth is done.” 

"You think you are done, do you?  You, _YOU_ are to marry a great lord.  How do you think you will cope?  Without my guidance, you will humiliate your husband before his cloak is about your shoulders.  Who will see to your household?  You have no talent for management.  Who will instruct your children, prepare them for the position the Lannister name will grant them?  You?  A graceless, motherless, shambling mummer’s show of a woman?  Lord Lannister is mad to choose you over more suitable girls, and any girl would be more suitable than you.  He will soon realize the mistake he has made and then what will you do?  Tell me that, my fine lady.”

“It is Lord Lannister who broached the subject of your dismissal, Septa.  He will not have you at Casterly Rock and does not want you anywhere near any children we may one day have.”

“And you rush to do his bidding.  Having his cock in you has destroyed every trace of propriety, of gratitude in you.”

Brienne gasped and her face flamed.

“Yes, I know you laid down for him and let him defile you in order to gain his hand.  The evidence is on the small clothes you wore yesterday.  Why do you think your linen still sits there?  I was waiting to look you in the eyes before I took them to your father as evidence of what a slut you have become.”

Fighting the sense of shame that Roelle was trying to impose on her, Brienne fisted her hands and stood to tower over the smaller woman.

“Go ahead and tell my father, if it will bring you joy.  That will only see me married to my Jaime sooner.  Tell your tale, Roelle and I will tell mine.”

It was the septa’s turn to gasp and flush.  “What do you mean?”

“I never complained to my father about your treatment of me, never once.  When you came to us he was still so distressed by my mother’s death and you quickly convinced me, a girl not yet five, that I deserved your daily cruelties.  I never showed him the bruises from your pinches and slaps.  I never told him how you caned my legs when I failed to meet your expectations, beat me in places where no one would see the marks.  You know my father has never lain a hand on me in chastisement.  How do you think he will react upon hearing of your mistreatment of me?”

The septa sputtered, but Brienne went on.

“And do not think, Septa, that I am unaware that Lady Rina, the girl you have been throwing at Ser Jaime for weeks, is your second cousin’s daughter.  You sought to advance the house of your birth over House Tarth, the house you swore in the light of the Seven to serve.  Are you aware of my father’s opinion of oathbreakers?”

Her lungs working like a bellows, the septa spat out, “I shall tell … everyone shall know .. the new Lady Lannister is a whore.”

“And who will everyone believe, a provincial septa or the new Lady Lannister?  Jaime will feel no qualms over defending me with every weapon at his disposal.  I believe your order receives generous support from Lord Lannister’s good friend, Queen Lyanna.  How will your superiors feel if that support is diminished or withdrawn due to your gossiping tongue?”

The septa goggled at the force of Brienne’s self-defense.  Roelle had never come to see Brienne’s skill with a sword.  She only knew the tongue-tied girl who she had bullied.  She had no idea of Brienne’s true strength.

“My father has made a generous provision for you in his will.  With that bequest forthcoming, your Mother House agreed to welcome back when your service here is done.  You can live out your lifespan in comfort, with no requirement to go into the world again and take service with another family.  But, if ugly rumors should be spread about me, I’m sure Father will feel no obligation to provide for you.”

The septa seemed to deflate before Brienne’s eyes.  Had she been so small, so weak all along?

“Septa Roelle, we cannot part as friends, but we need not part as enemies.  House Tarth will provide for your future, more generously than you ever served us.  Until then, I suggest you see to Lady Rina.  That girl is in dire need of a strict septa to correct her behavior.”

The septa’s eyes shot daggers at Brienne.  Not one of them found their target.

“Are we agreed, Septa?”  Brienne observed a small, grudging nod.  “Then you may go.”

***

On hearing the tale of her confrontation with the septa from the seven hells, Jaime leaned forward and caught Brienne’s face in both his hands.

“You are a wonder, my lady, already a lioness, who shines as bright as the evening star.”

Brienne leaned into Jaime’s passionate kiss.  As his lips left hers to trail across her cheek, she whispered in his ear.  “I had a long soak in the bath last night, Ser Jaime.  I am not feeling any discomfort, not at all.  And I … I locked the door.”

Jaime drew back in amazement and smiled slowly at his love.  They would begin their lifetime of fierce armory fucking much sooner than he anticipated.

***

Jaime, Brienne and Lord Selwyn all went to the docks to see the last of Evenfall Hall’s visitors off.  Lady Rina dragged her feet all the way to the ship, chivvied along by both her mother and Septa Roelle.

“I wish you good fortune with your new charge, Septa.”  Jaime said, with a smile that showed a great many teeth.  The he leaned forward, almost as though he was going to place a kiss on the woman’s cheek.  Instead he whispered, “I expect that we shall never hear of you again.”

The septa replied also in a whisper, “I know what that girl is.  The gods know too.”

“I’m sure the gods know Brienne’s heart and yours as well.  Which do you think is more pleasing to them, Septa?  I like Brienne’s chances.”

Septa Roelle’s huff of indignation was heard a final time on Tarth.  But Brienne had already turned her back and walked away.

Jaime and Lord Selwyn agreed to meet that same afternoon for the first round of discussions on the marriage contracts.  Selwyn’s belief that his daughter had chosen wisely was confirmed yet again when Jaime insisted that Brienne be a full participant in the negotiations.

With the maester acting as scribe, Jaime and Brienne sat together comfortably on a chaise before Lord Selwyn’s favorite armchair.  Brienne was still clothed in the dress she had chosen to wear to the dock, a light, loose blue gown reminiscent of a gambeson, without the fripperies and furbelows that so ill suited her powerful figure.  Jaime had been taking her hand and whispering compliments to her the whole morning and continued as soon as they met in Lord Selwyn’s solar.  His lady blushed only lightly, pleasure rather than embarrassment, at the demonstrations of his affections.  Jaime hoped this meant she was gaining confidence in him and in herself.

The maester cleared his throat.  “My lords, my lady, we should begin …”

“We should begin with Tarth.” Jaime interrupted.  “That must be the first article of our agreement.  When the time comes, far in the future if the gods are good, Tarth must be Brienne’s and Brienne’s alone.”

Each of the other three occupants of the room exclaimed objections at once.  Jaime silenced the maester with a look.  He held up a hand to Lord Selwyn and turned his attention to his betrothed.

“Ser Jaime, you do not have to do this.  I trust you.  I would welcome your assistance with ruling.”

Jaime raised her hand to his lips.  “I am grateful, my lady, that I have your confidence.  I will happily offer any advice or assistance that you request.  But you are the one the people of Tarth know and respect.  I have seen that respect as we have traveled this island.  You are the one they will love when you let them see how deeply you care about them.  This is _your_ island.  You are the one who must someday rule it.”

“Good Father,” Jaime smiled at being able to call Lord Selwyn that at last.  “The alliance between our houses cannot subsume House Tarth.  Brienne has been raised by you to lead her house.  She will fulfill that role admirably, I have no doubt.  The people of Tarth deserve a ruler who is not divided in his attentions.  They must know the Evenstar puts their needs first and foremost.  I cannot promise do that and they would not believe me if I tried to.  On Tarth I will be the heir’s consort, a helpmate and advisor, but not a ruler.”

“Lord Lannister,” the maester interjected, “this is unprecedented.  What will we tell people?  What will they say?”

“They will say it only makes good sense, Maester.  I am the lord of the Westerlands, a Lord Paramount, one of the King’s Wardens.  Tarth is part of the Stormlands.  I cannot promise my loyalty to the Storm Lords, as the heir to Tarth must do.  When the time comes, I cannot swear my fealty to Robert Baratheon or his heir as my liege lord.  My bannermen would revolt if I tried it.  The King would not permit it.  It is Brienne who must take and keep those oaths for Tarth.”

“But you would be making those oaths only for Tarth, in the persona of the Lord of Tarth. Legally that personage would be quite separate from the Lord of Casterly Rock.  Your oath would create no obligations on the West.”  The maester argued.

Lord Selwyn spoke up.  “Technicalities, Maester, those are technicalities.  I am loathe to state it, but Lord Robert is not the honorable man his father was.  I do not have faith that he would not try to take advantage of the situation if it suited him.  My good son is correct.”  Lord Selwyn’s blue eyes sparkled as he gave that title to Jaime.  “Tarth must remain in the hands of the Tarths.”

Brienne breathed deeply.  Jaime turned his face to her and smiled.  “We shall be one another’s support and counsel, my love.  I shall welcome your aid in the West and you can count on mine on Tarth.  I have faith in your ability and in our strength together.”

They discussed the wording for the contract, overruling the maester’s suggestions in some cases, accepting them in others.

The maester cleared his throat.  “This then leaves the issue of succession, my lady, my lords.”

“The first son must be for Casterly Rock.” Jaime said.  “My bannermen will insist on that.  They have waited a long time for me to secure the future of my House.  But whether our second boy or our eldest daughter will inherit Tarth, I leave that to Brienne and my good father to determine.”

Brienne blushed scarlet. “More than one babe?” She whispered.

Jaime nuzzled her ear and smiled at his bride.  “We shall have a pride of lion cubs, wench.  Of that I have no doubt.”  He winked at Lord Selwyn.  “But we shall also make provision if it should remain just the two of us, through our long and happy life together.  That is the purpose of this tiresome document.”

After some back and forth between father and daughter, it was determined that the oldest child who did not inherit the Rock would be the heir to Tarth.

“And when that child reaches the age of majority, he or she will take the name Tarth as their own and keep that name for the rest of their days and their children shall wear that name as well.  The Sapphire Isle will have rulers named Tarth, now and forever.”

“Ser Jaime,” Selwyn began, then had to clear his throat.  “That is to generous.”

“Not at all, Good Father.”  Jaime loved having a _good father_ at last.  “But perhaps there might be room made on the sigil of Tarth for a mark of the child’s Lannister heritage?  I have already sent to the King to request a Tarth sunburst shining down on the Lannister lion be added to my House’s banner.”

It took several days to create a document that everyone felt covered all the pertinent points.  There was none of the wrangling over material goods that both Jaime and Lord Selwyn had experienced in previous betrothal negotiations.  In fact, each of the felt the other was being too generous and accommodating.  But finally they had an agreement that could be signed and made official.  Copies were immediately sent to King Rhaegar as Jaime’s liege lord and Robert Baratheon as Brienne’s.  The notes that accompanied the contract were carefully worded.  Each lord was invited to attend the wedding celebration.  Each lord was invited to peruse the contract and request clarification of any point.  But no mention was made of their consent or approval being requested or required.  The marriage would go forward whether they liked the contract or not.

The wedding was a relatively small and quiet affair for its consequence.  Compared to Robert Baratheon’s extravagant celebration, it was barely a village fete, a fact that pleased Lady Margaery’s competitive nature.  The Tyrells had lost the prize of the Lion of Lannister, but she expected that her wedding would be considered more memorable.

The King and Queen sent their regrets, but the Princess Rhaella attended in the company of the Hand, Jon Connington and two of the Kingsguard.  The lords of the Westerlands who were on the eastern coast happily made voyage to see their lord finally wed.  Evenfall Hall quickly filled again with new guests whose presence was more welcome to the Lord of Tarth.

Tysha Lannister had given birth to a daughter only four months before and felt she could not leave her baby to attend the wedding and Tyrion would not leave Tysha.  Jaime would miss his brother’s presence, but he and Brienne had already agreed that they would sail to Braavos after the celebrations so Jaime could greet his new niece and Brienne could meet all of his brother’s family.

When the upheaval of the wedding planning grew to be too much for Brienne, Jaime would rescue her from all the demands placed on the bride and they would go … “exploring” was the euphemism Jaime came up with.

The servants learned to knock on any closed door, and to talk loudly before entering the armory, the stable, the garden ….   Lord Selwyn remained willfully oblivious.

After what felt like centuries of waiting, the day of the wedding finally arrived.  Jaime stood between the altars of the Father and the Mother in the packed sept of Evenfall Hall, waiting for his bride.  Jaime was in his Lannister armor, the bride’s cloak his mother had worn over his arm.  He’d sent for the the cloak when he was in King’s Landing and kept it hidden in his trunk until the betrothal was announced.  Jaime fiddled with a bit golden embroidery anxiously as he waited.  He took note of a loose thread that would need to be fixed for the future brides of the Houses of Lannister and Tarth.

The door to the sept opened and there she was.  On her father’s arm, the Tarth maiden’s cloak flowing behind her, Brienne was magnificent.  She had fretted over choosing a gown, her insecurities surfacing.  Jaime wanted her to feel confident and powerful as they began their life together.  With his encouragement she chose for herself, her true self and so there she was, in her shining bronze armor.  She was just as Jaime had first seen her, fierce, proud, a warrior who was also the woman who had stolen his heart. 

It was all Jaime could do not to rush down the aisle to claim her.

There were gasps at Brienne’s appearance, but she was so regal, so stunning that the crowded sept fell into a hush as she made her way to Jaime.

Her father removed the maiden’s cloak from her armor and Jaime unfurled the Lannister bride’s cloak, altered to include the sunburst of Tarth shining down on the rampant Lannister lion.  The septon bound their hands and they made their public vows to one another.  But the service was but a formality.  Jaime was already hers and Brienne was already his.

Tarth, thankfully, did not hold with barbaric tradition of the bedding ceremony.  The newlyweds were able to slip away as stealthily as two people in full armor can.  Many of the wedding guests were bewildered at Lord Lannister’s infatuation with his homely bride.  A few, the more discerning, recognized the calling of like souls to each other and were glad to see good and just Jaime Lannister so well matched.

And all the guests trying to sleep in the same wing as the bridal chamber could attest to how very well matched they were.

The sun was high in the sky when the happy couple emerged from the bridal chamber the next day.  The deep blushes that the guests anticipated from the bride were out in full force, yet there was no answering swagger, no sly smirking from her bridegroom.  Instead Jaime’s eyes were filled with warmth, his expression one of soft wonderment, his manner as gallant as the Warrior to the Maiden in the stories of the Seven.

Jaime could not say that his feelings for Brienne had changed upon their wedding night.  He was already reconciled to waking each morning more in love than the day before.  In the month of their betrothal, they had managed to steal private moments to explore their passion for one another, so he knew the delight that waited for them both in the marriage bed.  Jaime was, his brother had once told him, a man made for love.  And with his heart full to overflowing with Brienne, Jaime could let that man show himself to the world.

The bride and groom did their best to join in the entertaining of the wedding guests, they truly did.  Brienne allowed herself to be pulled aside by the noblewomen for gossip and teasing. Under the imperious eye of Princess Rhaenys that teasing remained kind and respectful.  Jaime joined the men for a cup of strong wine and some good natured japing.  A single look at Jaime’s face kept their jests respectful towards the bride as well, and he took the brunt of the digs for how very deep the mighty Lion had fallen.

Jaime and Brienne managed for minutes at a time to pull their gazes from each other and listen to what their companions were saying.  But soon one or the other’s attention would wander back in their beloved’s direction, their eyes would meet and their bodies yearn towards each other.  It was well before dinner time when first Brienne, then Jaime slipped away, leaving a smiling Selwyn to make excuses for his daughter and good son.

The second day after the wedding, their last on Tarth before departing for Braavos, Lord Selwyn had determined to hold a small tournament in honor of the skills and prowess of his daughter and good son.  There would be a joust in the morning and a melee in the afternoon.  Many of the guests were hoping to see a repeat of the already legendary battle between the Lion and his Maid.  But that was not to be.

Jaime and Brienne were happy to spar together every morning and discuss swordplay well into the night.  But even the mock battle of a melee was more aggression than they wished to bring to bear against each other.  They had drawn straws to see which of them would compete in which event.  When Jaime handily won the morning’s joust, he, as expected crowned his bride his Queen of Love and Beauty, and the maidens in attendance sighed.  Though Brienne complained of her armor not quite fitting right, she was victorious in the melee and crowned Jaime in turn to the good natured laughter of the crowd, Jaime’s loudest of all.  He kept the wreath of Tarth blue star flowers on his head all through the evening’s feast.

That day set a precedent.  For the rest of their tourney careers, they never competed against one another again.  And when one was victorious, the other always got the crown.

Jaime and Brienne crept out of Evenfall Hall very early the next day.  They wanted their ship for Braavos to be away on the morning tide.  They were accompanied to the dock only by Lord Selwyn.  He kept his horse close to his daughter on the ride down, gazing at her as though he would memorize every detail against the months of separation that were to come.  Thankfully the horse knew the path well.

When they reached the dock, they each embraced Selwyn in turn and then were gathered both together into his arms.  Selwyn bestowed kissed on each of their foreheads with whispers to take care of each other.  Brienne broke down weeping and fled on board.  As Jaime turned to follow her, his good father caught his arm.

“I know that I do not have to admonish you to be good to my girl.  I chose well when I chose you for her.”  Jaime put that statement away to consider later.  “But life is uncertain and we both know things can change in the blink of an eye.  Whatever the gods throw at you, Jaime, hold onto this man that loving her has made of you.  You have become the best version of yourself in the light of my Blue Star.”

Jaime embraced his good father one last time.  “Thank you, Selwyn, for the blessing that is Brienne and for the gift of your friendship.”

“It is not just my friendship you have, Jaime, my dear son, it is also my love.”

Jaime hurried onto the ship and buried his face briefly in Brienne’s hair to hide his tears.  Then they stood together on the deck as the ship departed and they watched as Selwyn’s huge figure on the dock receded from their sight.

***

The main cabin on board the ship was not as luxurious as some that Jaime had occupied, but he and Brienne seemed well pleased as they seldom left it during the voyage.  Between their bouts of lovemaking and fucking (for Jaime had discovered there was a difference and each had its own satisfactions), they discussed the logistics of their coming travels.

They would stay four weeks in Braavos with Tyrion and his family.  In addition to Jaime’s need to reaffirm his familial bonds, there were matters of business to hammer out, especially Jaime’s plans for the association with Tarth.  Tyrion and Tysha had already written to Brienne welcoming her to the family.  There was even a brief, enthusiastic postscript from their twin boys begging for a recounting of her fight with their Uncle Jaime at the Baratheon melee.  The letter was filled with good humor overlaying a wellspring of affection.  Brienne spoke to Jaime about being nervous over meeting those who loved Jaime so deeply, and were so clever as well.  He countered with telling her of his trepidation in dealing with Selwyn, and look how well that had turned out.  Brienne seemed astonished, and reassured, that someone as confident as Jaime suffered from nerves.

After Braavos, they would journey to the Vale to see Jaime’s nephews and niece.  Then, along with Ned Stark and his family, they would all travel to Winterfell to see Joffrey Arryn established as Lord Brandon Stark’s new squire and betrothed to the Warden of the North’s youngest daughter, Aryanna.

When Jaime and Brienne left Winterfell, they would take Myrcella and Tommen Arryn with them.  Tommen had begun to show real talent with the sword.  There could be no better place for him to learn than under Jaime and Brienne’s tutelage.

Myrcella was growing into as great a beauty as her mother had been, though with Eddard and Ashara Stark raising her, she was also kindhearted and honorable.  Despite the shadow old gossip cast on her parentage, several noble families had approached Ned about an alliance.  Myrcella herself showed a marked preference for Ned’s own boy, Rickar.  Bringing her to Casterly Rock, and perhaps in time, to Kings Landing would allow the strength of that childhood affection to be proved while giving Myrcella more exposure to the world outside the isolated Vale.

Brienne seemed a bit daunted by the prospect of all this family suddenly being hers, but she acknowledged having missed the experience of nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles.  She was conquering her shyness, gaining confidence with the surety of Jaime’s love.  He was positive that she would come to love his family and they would come to love her.

A storm blew up towards the end of their voyage to Braavos and Brienne suffered an unprecedented bout of seasickness that lingered even after the squall had passed.  Jaime remained in the cabin with her, wiping her face with cool cloths and holding her steady against the rocking of the ship as she fought the nausea, rubbing her back and holding her head when she lost the battle.  By the time they reached Braavos, Brienne had forgotten her trepidation over meeting the very clever Tyrion and very beautiful Tysha in her desire to once again be on solid ground.  She almost dropped to her knees and kissed the dock when she left the ship.  Jaime had kept a solid arm around her as she regained her land legs.

“Uncle Jaime!”  Twin cries rang out as two handsome youths charged down the dock, leaving their father far behind them.  They rushed to Jaime and he gathered them both in his arms.

“Gunnar.”  Jaime kissed one golden head that was nearly as high as his shoulder, then the other. “Jem.  It’s so good to see you boys.  Allow me to introduce you to your new aunt.

Both boys made credible bows to Brienne and then each kissed her hand with a Braavosi flourish.  At first glance, the boys were as alike as two peas, but Jaime had clued Brienne in to the tricks to tell them apart.

Puffing with exertion, Tyrion Lannister caught up to his two boys.  He looked up at his brother.  His brother smiled down at him.  Jaime went on one knee, embraced his brother and they stayed that way a long moment.

“Don’t worry, aunt my lady.  They do this every time.”  Jem said to Brienne.  The comment seemed to bring the brothers back to awareness of their surroundings.  Both men cleared their throats as the separated.

“Tyrion, it is my very great pleasure to introduce you to Brienne, Lady Lannister of Tarth.  Brienne, this rapscallion is my baby brother.”

“Tyrion Lannister of Braavos, master of the thirteen seas.”  The small man concluded.

Brienne followed Jaime’s example and knelt to bring her face closer to her good brother.  Her extended hand was ignored as Tyrion embraced her with more emotion than Brienne would have expected from the jesting content of his letters.

“Thank you for making him so happy, my Lady Brienne.”  Tyrion whispered in her ear.  Then he cleared his throat and pasted a wry look on his face.  “It’s going to be difficult for me to get to know you, good sister, with you standing so high and me standing so low, but we shall persevere.  Do you play cyvasse by chance?  I’ve found the best way to learn about someone is over a cyvasse board.”

Brienne rose to her full height and smiled down on her good brother.  “I’ve been known to play a time or two.  My father is considered the best player in the Stormlands.”

“Excellent!  I see a long and happy family life ahead for all of us.  But we must be going.  Tysha and my little darling are waiting luncheon for us.  Boys, offer you aunt your arms and bring her to the litter.  Jaime and I will follow with the luggage.”

***

The weeks in Braavos were a time of wonder for Brienne and Jaime loved watching her discover so many new things.

Tysha took to her new good sister immediately, sensing that here was a woman almost as unprepared for the pressures of carrying the name Lannister as Tysha had been, a crofter’s daughter of not yet five and ten years.  She was gentle when Brienne was timid, and inviting when Brienne felt bold.  Within a day, Jaime was watching Brienne flower in what might be her first true friendship with another woman.

Tyrion’s villa was high above the city, set in a beautiful garden, open and airy, cool even with the Essosi summer being at its height.  The boys, halfway to in love with Brienne themselves, claimed the privilege of showing their new aunt their home, the best spots in the garden to run and play and spar.  Brienne was soon being invited to join in all their boyish adventures.

Jaime presented Brienne with her final wedding gift on the third morning after their arrival; training sessions with one of the greatest water dancers living, a former First Sword to the Sea Lord himself.  Jaime had studied with Syrio in years past and the boys were being trained by one of his apprentices.  The delight on Brienne’s face as she learned this new style of swordsmanship was reward enough for Jaime, though Brienne made her appreciation known in other ways as well.

Brienne expressed admiration for the loose, comfortable summer clothing style of Braavos.  With Tysha’s enthusiastic guidance, she acquired a wardrobe of light tunics and breeches, flowing gowns and robes in every shade of blue known to man.  Clothing that, to Jaime’s delight, could be quickly and easily removed for spontaneous demonstrations of marital affections. 

Brienne accompanied Jaime and Tyrion as they went about the tasks of finalizing arrangements for projects having to do with Tarth, meeting ships captains and builders, even impressing the men of the Iron Bank with her astute questions and care of her people.

But even more Jaime loved the times when they were in the heart of his family.  Brienne was cautious at first with little Daena, never having cared for or even held a baby.  But soon she was competing just as vigorously for the privilege of holding the babe during the long evenings spent quietly as a family: reading to each other, playing games together, and just enjoying one another’s company.

All was going swimmingly for the first three weeks, then the illness that Brienne had suffered on the ship made a reappearance.  She was lethargic in the morning and nauseated in the afternoon.  Her body demanded she sleep at mid-day and she sometimes drifted off with her head on Jaime’s shoulder in the evening.  Just the smell of oysters made dizzy, but she craved strawberries and would eat a bushel if she could.

When Jaime and Brienne expressed concern to their family, Tyrion rolled his eyes and Tysha burst out laughing.

“You truly do not know, either of you?”  Tysha said between giggles.  “I thought you were being coy, married less than four weeks and two months gone, if I’m any judge.”

The light had begun to dawn for Jaime and he found it hard to breathe.

Brienne was still confused.  “How can you be laughing?  I’ve never been ill like this before.  This could be serious.”

Tysha smiled broadly at her.  “There are other things you’d never done before, Brienne, like laying with a handsome and virile lion.  He’s planted a cub in you, my sister lioness.  You’ll be a mother yourself in seven months or so.”

Brienne’s hands came up to cover her mouth in shock.  Jaime stumbled from his seat to kneel before his wife and tentatively place his hand on her flat belly.

“They do that to us, the bastards.”  Tysha sent an affectionate look to Tyrion, who preened.  “With their sweet talk and their knowing eyes, they seduce you and soon you are losing your breakfast and getting fat and crying for no reason.  You curse his name and love him like you never knew was possible.  He’s become something new.  He’s the father of your child.”

“I’m going to have a child.”  Brienne whispered as tears flowed from her eyes. 

“I don’t … I can’t … Jaime!”  Brienne reached out for her husband and was pulled into his tight embrace and they stayed there, wordless in their joy.

Tyrion, as always was the one to break the tension of the moment with levity.  “Yes, yes, congratulations.  I’m stunned you did not know.  Now, brother, don’t get puffed up as if you are the only man to ever accomplish this.”

“Tyrion!”  Tysha admonished her husband with just his name.  “We must start making plans to be at Casterly Rock for the birth.  I will not allow my sister to go through that without me.”

“Yes, we must be there, if only to protect Jaime when his very strong and large good father learns the babe is coming just eight months after the wedding.”

Jamie could see that Tyrion was going to enjoy torturing him.

Brienne spoke up.  “My father loves Jaime.  I’m sure he’ll forgive him for anticipating our marriage night.  He’ll only damage him a little, a broken bone, perhaps some teeth.”  She smiled teasingly at her husband.

Jamie could no longer resist.  He tasted the lips of the mother of his child.  For a very long time.

Tyrion cleared his throat.  From the volume, it probably wasn’t the first time.  “I’m sure the two of you have much to talk about tonight and probably into tomorrow morning.”  Tyrion observed the look in his brother’s eye.  “Possibly the afternoon.  I’ll make your excuses to the boys at dinner and cancel your appointments for tomorrow.”

“I’ll arrange for the healer to visit tomorrow before supper.  She is very wise and knowledgeable.   She will be able to answer all the questions you can think and many that you don’t yet know to ask.”  Tysha said.

Tyrion walked over to where Jaime and Brienne remained in one another’s arms.  He lifted his good sister’s hand and placed a gentle kiss on it.  Then he patted his brother on the back.

“I’m so pleased for you, Jaime.  Your child will be lucky to have you as his parents.”

***

On the advice of the midwife, Jaime and Brienne remained in Braavos until her fourth month of pregnancy had begun.  By that time they were only able to stop briefly at the Eyrie and would not go on to Winterfell.  Tommen and Myrcella would travel on to Casterly Rock after they had seen their older brother safely ensconced in the North. 

Brienne regretted keeping Jaime from the trip North, but just before they were all to depart, a letter came from Lord Brandon Stark, rescinding the agreement to foster Joffrey Arryn and the planned betrothal.  Ned swore a blue streak when he received the missive, blaming his brother’s inconstancy on the influence of his good sister.  Jaime remembered the prim, superior Catelyn Tully from his visits years ago to Riverrun.  He’d been surprised all along that Lady Catelyn would agree to allow the Arryn children, with their dubious lineage within a mile of her precious family.  Never mind that one of them was in truth her niece.  In his rage at the insult, Jaime sent some ravens.

When the party left the Eyrie, it was not to travel North but South.  Lord Joffrey Arryn would be presented at court and become squire to Prince Aegon.  There the handsome, blue eyed charmer was sure to make a mark upon the nobles and ladies of Westeros.  Tommen and Myrcella would travel straight on to Casterly Rock with Jaime and Brienne when the party from the Eyrie split up at the Inn at the Crossing.

Tommen was easy.  All he wanted was to swing a sword and to talk about swinging a sword afterwards.  That was a language Brienne knew.  But Brienne was tentative at first with Myrcella.  Myrcella was already a beautiful and very feminine girl, just the sort that Brienne had always found intimidating.  Brienne had taken the first steps into the world of female friendship with Tysha, but guiding a girl like Myrcella into her role as a noblewoman was a daunting task.  Jaime tried to encourage her to find common ground with their niece, but Brienne felt like she was stumbling in the dark.

One evening soon after the party from the Eyrie had gone off down the King’s Road to the capital, Brienne saw Myrcella slip out of the inn.  Concerned for the girl’s safety, Brienne belted a sword around her expanding waist and followed.

She found Myrcella standing disconsolately on a riverbank, tossing pebbles into the water and mumbling to herself.  Brienne called out softly to the girl, hoping not to startle her.

“Oh, Lady Lannister, I thought that you were occupied with preparations to travel on tomorrow.”

“Please, Myrcella, call me Brienne.  Or even Aunt Brienne, if you are so moved.  I saw you leave by yourself and wanted to be sure that you are well and safe.”

Myrcella cast a look at the sword at Brienne’s side.  “I’m sorry to have worried you, Aunt Brienne.  You’ve been inconvenienced enough because of me.”

Brienne laid a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder.  “You are not an inconvenience, child, you are family.”

“Yes,” the girl answered bitterly, “I am everyone’s family it seems.”

Brienne heard the pain in Myrcella’s voice.  It didn’t seem to matter that she was beautiful and graceful and a perfect little lady.  The world found ways to be cruel all the same.

“It was wrong of Lord Brandon to break his word.  He would have been lucky to welcome you at Winterfell.”

“Lucky until everyone saw this!”  The girl grabbed and pulled on a lock of her red gold hair.  “Then everyone would start whispering ‘Tully bastard.  Not really an Arryn at all.’”

“What do you remember of your father?”

“I’ve never met him.”

“What do you remember of Jon Arryn, then?  I was very young when my mother died, but I do have memories of her.”

“He used to take me on his lap in the evening and tell me stories of our … his House.  Anytime he went away he would tell me to watch for his return at one of the windows in the high tower and when I saw him come through the gates, I’d run down to meet him.  He always brought me a treat, a doll or candied plums.  Once he gave me the sweetest pony and watched me every day as I learned to ride.”

“It sounds as though he was a good father.”

“But he wasn’t my father, not really.”

“He was your father in every way that is important.  He loved you, comforted you, taught you.  Those are the things a father does for his children.  Hold onto that love he showed you, Myrcella.  No whispering tongues can take it away from you.”

Myrcella threw her arms around Brienne and buried her face in her bosom.

“We’ll be going by Riverrun, won’t we?”  Brienne barely heard the girl’s muffled question.

“We will.  Would you like to stop there?  I’m sure they would not turn away Lord Lannister if he asked for shelter.”

“No.  No, I don’t.  He’s never wanted to meet me.  Why should I want to meet him?”

Brienne stroked the girl’s hair, unsure of how to comfort her, trying to remember what she wished for when she was young.

“How could my mother do it, Aunt Brienne?”

Now they were getting into dangerous territory.  Jaime had told her the whole story of his twin’s troubled life.  But how much did one tell a little girl.

“What do you remember of your mother, Myrcella?”

“Not very much.  She spent much more time with Joffrey and Tommen than with me.  She was very … exacting.  She wanted me to be a perfect lady.  She shouted at my septa a few times when I got dirty playing with the boys.”

“That surprises me.  Your uncle told me that your mother used to dress in his clothes and take sword practice when they were young.”

“She did?  She told me a lady didn’t do such things.”

“Your grandfather Lannister was a very strict man, I’ve been told.  Maybe she thought she had to be as strict as he was to be a good parent.”

“Maybe.”  Myrcella’s voice dripped with doubt.

“Now, my father knew that he could not keep my from something I loved as much as I loved the sword.  Since I could not sew a straight seam, much less embroider a garland, he let me have my way.”

“I embroider very well.  Perhaps I could help you with clothing for the baby?  And you could teach me about swords, if you are able.”  Myrcella asked tentatively.

“I would be happy to have your help preparing for the little one.  I have been concerned that I might not get all done in time.  And I would be happy to teach you the sword, if you truly wish to learn.  You do not have to.  We will take you as the gods made you and love you for it.  You don’t have to be sword mad to be part of our family.”

Brienne recounted the conversation to Jaime that night as he lay with his head on her belly, occasionally whispering “secrets” to the cub inside.

“What will I do when she wants to know more about Cersei?  When any of them wants to know.”

“Tell them the truth as gently as you can.  I think Myrcella has mostly heard only of her mother’s beauty and grace.  And that has made her place great value in having those things herself, so much value that she has stifled other aspects of herself.  Be sure she knows the other good aspects of her mother: that she was adventurous and joined you in jumping into the sea, that she wished to learn to fight for herself rather than depending on others and any other tales you can remember from your childhood.  And perhaps Myrcella will learn that it was having those parts of herself frustrated that led her mother down the wrong path.”

“Help me when the time comes.”  Jaime looked deeply into her eyes as he asked.

“Always, my love.  Always.”

***

Gerion of the Houses of Lannister and Tarth came into the world during one of the worst storms the folk of the Westerlands could remember.  The lightning flashed and the thunder boomed and Brienne Lannister of Tarth shouted curses at her anxious husband that no one suspected the soft spoken lady even knew.  Her good sister, Tysha, who had insisted on attending the birth, laughed and egged her on.

The rest of the household waited almost breathless for the birth of the heir to the Lion of the Rock.  Tyrion kept company with his sons, his niece and his nephew through the seven unending hours of Brienne’s labor, reassuring them all that this was normal, that Tysha had shouted much worse at him during her first childbirth and there was nothing to worry about.  Their beloved aunt and the baby would come through just fine.  Their uncle would not permit any other result.

Lord Selwyn had not yet arrived in Casterly Rock, as he was expecting the babe would not arrive for another month.

When their son was laid in Brienne’s arms as Jaime held her in his, they looked on him with wonder.  He was a big lad, as might be expected given his parents, with unruly tufts of golden hair and eyes as blue as a calm sea on a summer morning.  The rest of the world went away for them, as they counted fingers and toes and looked for themselves and their ancestors in their boy.  Selwyn’s nose, but a Lannister chin.  Large hands that would hold a sword or a book with equal dexterity.  Jaime rested his head on Brienne’s shoulder and could not take his eyes from his son, gazing at the future laid out before him as it had never been before. 

 


	6. The Journey Is Its Own Reward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime’s daydream life continues.

Life went on in the world and at Casterly Rock. 

The nobles of Westeros had been surprised by Lord Lannister’s choice of bride and by the lack of pomp at his wedding.  Speculation ran rampant among the gossip mongers who idled their time at court, particularly amongst disappointed highborn maidens and their mothers. 

Heads nodded and winks were tipped when the first babe came just eight months and two days after the wedding.  Having scandalously remaining in the birthing chamber throughout his lady wife’s labor, it was said Lord Jaime put a sword in his son’s hand before he was even swaddled. 

While that wasn’t true, the infant spent as much time at the training ground as in his nursery and his mother frequently retreated into the armory to feed him as she trained to regain her strength after her pregnancy. 

Lord and Lady Lannister settled into a calm and happy life together and the tongues of the scandal mongers moved on to more salacious targets. 

More children followed Gerion into the Lannister family.  

Twins were born at the beginning of the fourth year of Jamie and Brienne’s marriage, appropriately during the part of each year the family spent on Tarth.  Joanna, heir to the Sapphire Isle, and her younger-by-half-an-hour brother, Galladon, both came screaming into the world in the great Lord’s chamber at Evenfall Hall, as their father was again the bulwark at their mother’s back during her labor and their grandfather distracted Gerion and himself with games in his solar.  When Selwyn carried the boy up to meet his new brother and sister, Gerion seemed unimpressed with the two babies and asked his father how soon they would be able to fight him with swords. 

Though they tried to be cautious for the sake of Brienne’s health, Duncan arrived just two years after Joanna and Galladon.  When that labor was finished, the maester, who was newly assigned to Casterly Rock, observed to them that Lady Lannister seemed to conceive readily, carry the child well and give birth quickly.  He suspected his second and third circumstances were the result of Lady Brienne’s strong abdominal muscles and supple hips.  He then wondered if she would be willing to journey to the Citadel to be studied by the maesters who instructed the novices and acolytes in the intricacies of the female reproductive system.  Jaime thought that Brienne showed great forbearance by not leaving her childbed, finding her sword and running the maester through. 

Myrcella and Tommen remained at Casterly Rock through their adolescence.  As Myrcella grew into a kind and gracious young lady, her presence was a great boon to Brienne.  As the Lady of the Westerlands, it was expected that she would have a small court of young noblewomen around her, giving those maidens the opportunity to polish their courtesies in a great house while forming friendships with one another and making the acquaintance of the young men who served as squires and pages.  Brienne was at a loss in how to deal with these well-bred fosterlings, so Myrcella saw a place where she could help her aunt with her many duties.  The girl never overstepped, but was always at hand with a subtle suggestion to guide Brienne.  And she happily took the ladies off Brienne’s hands so she could slip away to train or to spend private time with her husband and children.

After some experimentation, together Myrcella and Brienne devised a regimen that let Brienne feel that she was doing right by the girls sent into her keeping. 

Casterly Rock gained a reputation as an excellent place to send a daughter for fostering.  The Lannisters frequently hosted the finest knights and nobles in the realm as well as wealthy merchants, bankers and officials from Essos.  They attracted the cream of the young men of Westeros as fosterlings.  The girls put into Lady Brienne’s keeping seemed to gain in confidence and good health as well as in the gentle accomplishments most expected of a young noble woman.  And if they also learned how to handle a spear or quarterstaff and to defend themselves with knife or short sword, what their parents didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

In her eighteenth year, Myrcella married Rickar Stark, as she had fervently desired since she was a small girl.  Through his mother and Dorne’s right of female inheritance, Rickar was heir to Starfall until his cousin, Lord Edric Dayne wed and fathered children.  Edric spent his time in Kings Landing or Dragonstone serving as Prince Aegon’s principal advisor.  Edric asked Rickar to oversee the lands of House Dayne while he stayed at court.  Brienne and Jaime knew they would miss her terribly, but were glad that Myrcella would be living in Dorne, where people took irregularities of parentage more lightly than the rest of Westeros.  As was always the case, the rest of the world treated a woman more viscously in such situations than it did a man.

As Tommen grew, he showed promise of becoming one of the most skilled and dangerous fighters of his generation.  He was equally at ease with lance, sword and spear.  Though he was a bit lean and light of frame, he was quick as a … viper.  Tommen lacked the ready charm of his older brother and the pleasing nature of his sister.  Instead he was an intense and quiet boy, who devoted almost as much time to his studies as he did to the knightly arts.  When he turned three and ten an offer came to foster him at Sunspear, so he might study Dornish fighting styles with Prince Oberyn and his famous daughters, the Sand Snakes.  Jaime and Brienne debated the wisdom of it between them and were ready to present the invitation to the boy for his feelings on the matter when other events transpired. 

They received a letter from Robert Baratheon requesting a favor from his liege woman.  His brother Stannis’s daughter, Shireen, had been “horribly disfigured” by an attack of greyscale.  Her notoriously unstable mother was not behaving well over the whole ordeal.  Lord Robert was hoping that “spending time in the company of Lady Brienne would help the girl appreciate that some men find things to value in a woman other than good looks.” 

It took some persuasion, but Brienne finally convinced her husband that he could not jump on a horse and ride the hundreds of leagues to Storm’s End simply to punch Robert Baratheon many, many times.  Once Jaime calmed down, they considered the substance of the request. 

“I feel for the girl, Jaime.  Selyse Baratheon is a horrible woman.  She would make my sour old septa almost seem kind.  Selyse once told me, in the middle of a banquet, that if I’d prayed more as a child, my teeth would not have come in crooked!  I can’t imagine what sort of hells she’s putting her daughter through.”

“I vaguely remember her from Robert’s tourney as a sweet girl.  I would be happy to aid her.  But we must consider that we keep a vigorous household.  Your ladies do not merely sit about your solar doing embroidery and giggling about young men.  We put them through almost as much activity as we do the squires.  If the girl is sickly, will she thrive here?  She may feel left out if she cannot participate in our daily tasks or endanger her health so she could.  With Robert having no legitimate heirs, and not likely to have, Lady Shireen will inherit the Stormlands in due time.” 

“What do you know about Lord Robert that I do not, husband?”

“I heard it from Tyrion, of course.  He picks up gossip like he picks up trading partners.  According to Tyrion, it’s been years since there was a new blue eyed, black haired bastard named Storm.  An untreated disease of an indelicate nature, along with overindulgence in food and drink has rendered that fat, stupid sot incapable of fathering any more viable children.  Lady Margaery locked her door to him after her second miscarriage.  The “visit” she is making to Highgarden is likely to last the rest of Robert’s life.  Stannis Baratheon is almost certainly the next Lord of the Stormlands.” 

“Oh. Stannis.”  Brienne said flatly.  “Well at least he’s an honorable man.” 

“Yes, so honorable and hidebound and self righteous that he makes you want to kill him just by breathing.” 

“Yet a better option than Renly.” 

“Really?  I thought there was still a tiny corner of your heart that Renly could claim.”  Jaime teased. 

“Not even the smallest part, husband.  Renly is somewhat handsome and a bit charming and that is all that he is.  He does not truly care about others.  He only wants people to think he does.” 

“And what caused this harsh judgement of him, wife?” 

“I told you once how he was kind to me and danced with me when no one else would.  He stole my young maidenly heart that night.  He didn’t mean to do it.  I think he only wanted my father to see him being courteous to his heir.  But he recognized what I was feeling.  My heart was no more valuable to him than a disappointing name day gift, touched but once, then cast aside.  He forgot about me as soon as I was out of his notice.  Until the wedding tourney.” 

“What did he do, Brienne?”  Jaime’s voice became serious. 

“I don’t believe he and Loras Tyrell chose that hallway for their tryst at random.  I overheard some rather pointed comments about unnatural women interspersed with their passionate declarations to each other.  I don’t think Loras wanted me trailing along behind his lover like a sad puppy.  I know he hadn’t liked me defeating him so quickly in the melee.  So, he made sure I knew Renly’s true feelings.”

“Those bastards!  And to think I reassured them of my discretion when I caught them practically fucking in public.”

“Ultimately, we owe them much, my love.  If they had not been cruel, I would not have wept and you would not have heard me.  You might not have joined me in my hiding place and we would never have found one another.” 

“Not a chance of that, wife.  We were as inevitable as the tide.” 

A long time later, as they straightened their clothing before descending for supper in the great hall, they returned to the topic of Shireen Baratheon and agreed they would foster her for as long as she wanted to stay. 

In the way that the Lannister men seemed to have, Tommen Arryn took one look at Lady Shireen and fell top over tail.  Any desire to see Dorne was forgotten.  He pursued the girl tenderly, but relentlessly.  Brienne had several serious talks with Shireen about the trials and unexpected pleasures of being an unattractive woman loved by a handsome man.  Eventually, Shireen came to believe in Tommen’s sincerity and asked Jaime to approach her uncle about a betrothal.  The initial result made Jaime livid. 

“He refuses!  Robert Baratheon refuses based upon the children’s ‘close relationship by blood’.  The bastard doesn’t even know which of the boys he sired!”

“Calm, husband, be calm.  You still can’t ride all the way to Storm’s End to hit him.  And your outrage does those children no good.  Write to Shireen’s father this time.  Include a note from her, since she seems to be the only tender spot Stannis has.  He will understand the situation if you couch it properly.  Let him disabuse Robert of his mistaken notions.” 

Jaime sent a long letter to Stannis.  In it he described Tommen’s accomplishments as both swordsman and scholar.  That he demonstrated the Arryn devotion to honor and loyalty and had the Lannister astuteness.  How he was just above average height and lean, with dark eyes and an olive complexion, very pleasing to the eyes, but was not a wastrel.  Though she was several years his senior, Shireen was the only young woman to truly catch his eye and he looked to be devoted to her.  They were still young and would have time to test the bonds that seemed to have formed, but both the children wanted to have a formal understanding going forward.  

Shireen also wrote, her note boiling down to “Please, Father, may I have this one?” 

They received a raven from Robert about a month later assenting to the proposed betrothal.  He stated his delight that not only would the Stormlands be gaining ties to the Vale and the Westerlands but to Dorne as well. 

Jaime sighed in disgust.  “He just can’t help himself, can he?” 

“Perhaps when a man has been so profligate in spreading his seed, he forgets that others do not think so casually of bastardy and the children he sired suffer for it.  I would not have reproached you, husband, if we were raising a golden, green eyed child named Hill among our pride of cubs.  You were a man grown before I met you and certainly not a virgin.  But seeing what the shadows on their parentage have done to our niece and nephews, I am grateful I married such a careful, caring man.” 

***

In the tenth year of their marriage, trouble came to all of Westeros.  In his old age, Balon Greyjoy made a final bid to see himself a King.  He declared the Iron Islands free of the rule of King Rhaegar and independent.  His brothers, Victarion, the Iron Captain and Euron Crow’s Eye, took the Iron Fleet into the Narrow Sea and began raiding up and down the coastline.  The King and the Lord’s of the East were involved defending their homes from the reaving of the Iron Born.  It was left to the lords of the West and North to raise their banners and attack the Greyjoy’s home base of Pyke. 

The Lannisters, thankfully, did not have to worry over the safety of Tarth.  Tyrion, always seeming three steps ahead of everyone else, had hired a mercenary fleet to guard the “Lannister interests” on the Sapphire Isle.  The presence of those warships, along with the near legendary prowess of the Evenstar, made Tarth too costly a prize for the Iron Born to pursue when there were other, even richer targets available. 

Jaime sailed for Pyke on a bleak day towards the end of a short winter.  Brienne had attempted to argue that she should accompany him on the campaign.  But with its Lord away for the gods knew how long, the West needed its Lady to rule it.  And they had five children who needed at least one of their parents to guide and protect them.  Brienne had even suggested they draw straws, as they did before tourneys, to see which of them would stay and which would go to battle.  Jaime refused, stating that being far braver than he, Brienne would have to be the one to stay and wait for news of his safety.  His nerves would never have been able to take the fear of losing her.  

If Jaime privately thought that he’d already lived with such fears through three pregnancies, he knew better than to voice it. 

His entire family accompanied him to the docks on the day of his departure.  Jaime embraced each of his children, those he’d sired and those he was raising.  He took Brienne in his arms and held her for a long time, long enough that the ship’s captain was calling to him lest they miss the tide.  Brienne grasped his face in her hands and gave him a quick, fierce kiss. 

“Come home to me, my lord.  I don’t want to have to sail to Pyke to find you.” 

While Brienne waited for news of her husband, word came that there had been a great battle in Blackwater Bay. An attack by the Iron Fleet had been defeated.  Victarion Greyjoy was dead.  Prince Aegon, commanding the royal fleet, had been killed attempting to take Euron Greyjoy’s flagship.  Edric Dayne was also lost.  Joffrey Arryn had been badly wounded at the Prince’s side but was expected to survive.  Newly knighted for his bravery, Joffrey was recovering in the Red Keep and being devotedly nursed back to health by one of the Queen’s ladies in waiting, her niece in fact, Aryanna Stark.  So devotedly in fact, that a septon had been brought to Joffrey’s chamber to marry them. 

Though the King was deeply mourning the loss of his eldest son, he was mobilizing the men he could spare to join the troops already attacking the Iron Islands. 

Another piece of news came as well, the frightening fact that no one knew where Euron Greyjoy’s ships had gone.  He had broken off the battle when he saw the attack was failing.  He had sunk Prince Aegon’s ship in his escape.  Crow’s Eye had less than half of the Iron Fleet with him, but it was enough to wreak havoc on any of the coastal cities. 

Brienne immediately began to prepare for a defense of Lannisport. It was known that Euron was ambitious and he was most likely insane.  If he’d left his brother’s men to die, he might try making his way back to Pyke to try to claim those bird shit covered rocks when Balon inevitably fell.  And the cities of the West he would pass along the way had been left almost undefended. 

Brienne called on every ship she could commandeer from the Lannister fleet.  Tyrion had sent a few war ships to Casterly Rock at the same time he had arranged the fleet for Tarth.  Lannisport, however, was a much greater prize, well worth the risk, especially with Jaime leading the forces against Balon.  Brienne consulted with sailors and fishermen who knew the waters of the Sunset Sea better than anyone.  The armsmen who’d been left at Casterly Rock began equipping and training the townsfolk to defend themselves. 

Word came that Estermont, then Sunspear, then the Arbor all suffered lightning quick attacks from Iron Born ships.  Brienne planned, plotted, rethought, revised.  She paced and worried over her husband’s safety, over the people of Lannisport, who were counting on her to protect them.  Casterly Rock would never fall in the kind of attack Greyjoy was capable of mounting.  He would land, loot, reave, rape, in the town below the castle and then disappear out to sea again.

The attack came on a moonless night just days after the Arbor had suffered and bled at the hands of Euron Greyjoy.  Tommen Arryn and the armsmen of Casterly Rock led the defense on land.  While the Iron Islanders were engaged with more and better organized opponents than they had expected to face, Brienne brought her small fleet out of hiding around the peninsula at Feastfires and attacked the Iron Fleet from behind. 

Euron Greyjoy might have been the greatest captain on the thirteen seas, as he was quick to proclaim to any and all, but Brienne was island born as well.  She’d taken time to learn the hidden traps that waited for the unwary sailor in the bay at Lannisport and added a few of her own.  She drove many of the Iron Born’s ships onto the shoals.  Hidden archers with fire arrows and trebuchets with burning pitch rained down on the grounded ships of the Iron Fleet. 

Euron once again attempted to escape, leaving many men behind while he saved his own skin, but Brienne was ready for him.  She and a troop of Lannister armsmen and sailors gained the deck of his ship and, for all his braggadocio, Euron Greyjoy could not stand against the sword and the fury of Brienne Lannister of Tarth. 

Though the battle was short, there were still casualties.  One boy in particular stood out for Brienne.  His only family, a Lannister armsman, had fallen early in the fight.  But the boy, barely ten, had picked up his uncle’s axe and protected Tommen from an attack from behind.  The Lannister’s owed the child a debt that she would be glad to pay.  She took young Podrick Payne as her personal squire. 

When Jaime returned home from Pyke victorious, Euron Greyjoy was waiting shackled to a wall in the dungeon below Casterly Rock.  It was several days before the Lion of Lannister went to visit his “guest”.  He had a reunion with his wife and family to enjoy first. 

Rhaegar requested that Euron be brought to Kings Landing to be punished for his crimes against the Seven Kingdoms.  Jaime was reluctant to be parted from any of his family again, so he, Brienne and all the children made the trip, stopping briefly at Tarth on the way. 

Spring had come by the time their ship sailed into Blackwater Bay.  There were still traces on the terrible battle that had taken place.  The King, Queen and Prince Aemon would meet them at the docks as the Kingsguard ceremoniously took custody of the prisoner. 

Jaime and Brienne disembarked their ship, both dressed in their armor, bearing their swords.  Brienne led Greyjoy, chained and gagged, for he would not stop talking no matter how you threatened him.  Gerion walked tall and proud at his mother’s side with Joanna and Galladon holding their father’s hands.  Duncan, prone to wandering, was being carried in his Grandfather Selwyn’s arms. 

Brienne bowed and delivered the prisoner to the King.  After a long moment where Rhaegar stared into the prisoner’s eye, the Lord Commander took the chain and led the pirate away.

“Brienne of the Houses of Tarth and Lannister,” Rhaegar proclaimed in a formal, carrying voice.  “You have brought us the killer of our dearly loved son, the cur who has attacked our people and shed blood in our cities.  We cannot express the depth of our gratitude to you.  But we hope that this will convey some small part of our respect.  Kneel.” 

Jaime gasped in recognition as Brienne dropped to her knees before the king.  He heard Selwyn’s exclamation of surprise and joy. 

Rhaegar took his sword from its scabbard.  He touched the flat of the blade to one of Brienne’s shoulders, then the other.  

“In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.  In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.  In the name of…” 

Jaime fought the emotion welling up in him.  He’d been but a boy when these words had been said to him by Arthur Dayne.  He had not been nearly so deserving of the honor as Brienne was.  As Rhaegar continued, Jaime squeezed the hands of the twins, and glanced briefly at his oldest and his youngest to be sure that they were observing this great moment in their mother’s life.  Then his eyes returned to his wife. 

When he told the story in the years that followed, Jaime always pointed out that their second set of twins, Tyrsha and Selynne, were there as well, though unseen.  Brienne had told him that morning that her armor was once again not fitting quite right, as sure sign that their pride of cubs would soon be growing. 

Rhaegar ended the ceremony with “Rise, Ser Brienne of the Houses of Tarth and Lannister.”  

***

The years that followed were as blissful as they could be with a large family of strong personalities.  The children grew and, homely or beautiful, freckled or golden, giant or … dwarf, they were perfect in their parent’s eyes. 

They spent a part of each year with Selwyn and visited with Tyrion and Tysha as often as they could.  The cliffs of the Rock and beaches of Tarth, the meadows and the forests, the halls and the villas rang with the sounds of a happy, healthy family.  Most of all no one ever doubted that they were loved. 

One by one the children grew and made their own lives.  Some choose marriage and family, others choose duty and commitment to another purpose.  All that concerned their parents was that they were happy in their choices. 

***

 At the end of his long life, lying in his bed, feeling the beat of his heart faltering, Jaime looked at his beloved wife of so many years.  Her hair was entirely grey now and there were lines on the face that was still as homely as the first day he gazed on it.  Her beautiful eyes swam with tears.  She knew their parting was at hand. 

_I shall wait for you, my lady.  I know that I am not a patient man, but do not hurry into the arms of the Stranger to join me._  

He looked at his gathered children.  He could not have been prouder of them. Gerion was already the Lion of Lannister, ruling the West with his fiery Dornish wife at his side.  Joanna, the next Evenstar, oversaw the Sapphire Isle in Brienne’s name with the counsel of her husband, Ser Podrick Payne of Tarth.  Galladon was in his fifteenth year as the Hand of the King, a far better one than his grandfather ever dreamed of being, helped by the advice of the clever Braavosi lady he had wed.  Duncan had chosen a scholarly life and had just been made an Arch Maester of the Citadel.  His darling girls had made the journey from Kings Landing, together as always: Queen Tyrsha, the wife of King Aemon, first of his name and her twin, Ser Selynne, the second woman to be knighted in the long history of Westeros and first to serve in the Kingsguard.  And last but never least, their surprise child, his baby boy, Arthur.  Like his Uncle Tyrion, he was small in stature but great in heart, an adventurer who was the finest captain on the thirteen seas.  

They would all be well.  They would mourn their papa, but their lives were full with their own responsibilities and joys, with the next generation of lions, his beloved grandchildren and the great grandchild he lived long enough to hold in his arms.  The Lannisters and Tarths would live on and bring honor to the kingdoms and their houses. 

What was it that had brought him to this happiness, this life so richly lived, Jaime wondered as the events of his life passed through his mind.  

Was it wedding Brienne? Loving Brienne in that sunlit meadow and, he’d always believed, making their Gerion with her?  Was it meeting her in the melee at old Robert Baratheon’s tourney?  

Was it defying his father and preventing the murder of Rhaegar and his family?  Was it joining with Rhaegar in the revolt against Aerys, the Mad King? 

Jaime’s mind landed on a particular moment in time, one he had forgotten years ago.  One that could seem unimportant in the scope of his long and eventful lifetime. 

***

Young Jaime Lannister had finished his day’s lesson with the master at arms and was seeking out his twin.  He would share with Cersei what he had learned, so she could also be a warrior one day.  In reward, Cersei might treat him to more of her thrilling kisses and caresses and Jaime would know that someone in this world truly loved him and needed his love in return. 

His pursuit led him to the neglected nursery on the farthest side of the castle, well away from the rest of the family quarters.  The sound of a child crying drew him on.  What could Cersei be doing here?  Their little brother was an uninteresting lump of flesh that made odd noises and smelled bad much of the time. 

The nursery was deserted, but for Tyrion and Cersei.  Where was the nursemaid?  How dare she ignore the crying of his little brother?  Tyrion was a Lannister.  He should not be left in such distress.  It was not Cersei’s job to comfort him. 

He approached Cersei as she stood over the cot.  Tyrion was lying naked on his blankets, his face red as an apple, gasping for breath as one wail finished and another began.  Cersei had the flesh of one of his stunted legs gripped tightly in her fingers, pinching, digging her nails into his skin.  She must have been at it for some time as both his arms and his other leg were purple with bruises.  

“Why don’t you die?” Cersei snarled.  “They told me you would die.” 

Jaime knocked her hand away.  “Are you mad?”  He cried. 

“He doesn’t matter, brother.  Only we matter.  He never should have been.  Mama didn’t need any more children.  She had me … us.  He should die for killing her, for taking her away from … us.  If he dies, Father will be happy.  I … we can make Father happy.” 

Since his birth, Jaime had been a follower.  He had followed his sister into this world and had trailed behind her ever since.  Never once had he protested her actions, even when she struck the servants or told lies about the bannermen’s daughters who fostered with their family.   

But not this time. 

Tyrion was his little brother and Mama had told him that big brothers protected their little brothers.  Jaime would not let Mama down. 

“Stop it, Cersei!  You will not hurt Tyrion any more.” 

She drew herself up, a feral rage gleaming in her emerald eyes.  Jaime had seen that rage before, but never so entirely focused on him.  

“Who are you to say no to me?” 

“I am Jaime Lannister, the Lion of the Rock, the heir to Tywin Lannister.  This is my home and my brother.  And I say you will not hurt him any more.” 

“Ooooooh, how dare you!  I am Cersei Lannister, the firstborn of Tywin Lannister, the Lioness of the Rock and I may do what I like!” 

Cersei raised her hand to strike him, as she sometimes did when he “needed correction.”  For the first time, Jaime blocked her blow. 

She aimed a kick at his shin, as she sometimes did.  Again, Jaime blocked it. 

Cersei reached for the first thing that came to hand, a bowl on the table next to Tyrion’s cot, and went to throw it at Jaime, as she had thrown things at him in the past.  Jaime caught her arm in a strong, but not bruising grip, and took the bowl from her. 

“Stop it, Cersei.  I wouldn’t want to have to tell Father what has happened here.” 

“I hate you, Jaime.  I hate you and I wish you had never been born, just like that monster you are choosing over me.”  Cersei hissed in a voice unlike the dulcet tones she usually directed at Jaime.  And then she fled the room. 

Nothing was the same between them after that. 

Every time she moved to touch Jaime, he saw those pinching fingers leaving bruises.  Every time she moved to kiss him, he saw her lips twisting in pleasure as Tyrion wailed in pain.  When she spoke of their love for each other, he heard the “me” within “we.” 

During one of Jaime’s reading lessons with Father, a casual comment was dropped about the nursemaid skivving off to drink tea when she should have been attending to Tyrion.  Lord Tywin may have hated his younger son, but he hated being taken advantage of by servants even more.  After that not even Cersei’s threats induced the nursemaid to leave her alone with Tyrion. 

Cersei took to isolating herself in her rooms and concentrated on perfecting her “womanly graces” and terrorizing her handmaidens.  Father had promised her marriage to Prince Rhaegar and she directed her attentions towards preparing for her royal future rather than mending her relationship with her twin. 

As Jaime spent less time with Cersei, he began to make friends among the noble boys sent to foster in his home and the squires who accompanied their masters to the Rock. He impressed all with his skill at swordplay, but also with his charm and good sense.  Jaime worked harder to conquer reading and writing, since Cersei’s promised assistance with ruling the West could no longer be relied upon.  

Though Jaime sometimes missed the connection with a twin who felt like the other half of himself, he knew the price of that closeness was too high. 

_As simple as that?  The gods only know what a misery my life tied might have been if I had not chosen to defend Tyrion that day._

**_As simple as that?  Jaime leaned on the parapet as that thought reverberated from his daydream and into his conscious mind.  If I had stood up to her even one time, would so much pain and dishonor have been avoided?_ **  

As his breathing faltered and his sight dimmed, the last thing the good Jaime Lannister, the just and honorable Jaime Lannister felt was a strong hand that gripped his own tenderly.  The last thing he saw was a pair of deep blue eyes.  The last thing he thought was 

_Sapphires._


	7. To Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We can only stay in a dream for so long ...

It’s time to shake off the remnants of my imagined life.  The boat carrying you and your squire is a dark and distant shadow in the morning mist. 

I’ve done all that I can for you, my lady. 

I heaped yet more shit upon my honor to keep this part of my oath to Catelyn Stark.  I avoided having to go into battle against anyone loyal to the Tullys or the Starks, against you.  I threatened a toddling babe in order to take this thrice damned keep without a fight.  I was exactly the man that Edmure Tully expected the oath breaker, the Kingslayer to be.  I played him like the trout on his sigil. 

There are horses, supplies and coin waiting for you at an inn down river.  I saw to that as soon as Bronn pointed out what might happen if “them greedy, hat-wearin’, Frey fuckers” learned the unmarried heiress of Tarth was in the vicinity.  You could probably beat all of them in a fair fight, but we know that they are treacherous bastards.  Podrick has a letter secreted in his boot that should grant you welcome and safety with any other House yet loyal to the King. A letter he will burn as soon as you reach the Neck. 

If I were truly that Jaime, Jamie the Good and Just, I would hope that you find some noble, tall Northern lord who is strong enough.  One who knows there is more to value in a woman than soft hands and big tits.  I would hope that he brings you love and laughter, the freedom to be both warrior and woman.  That he gives you children with astonishingly blue eyes.   I am not noble enough to hope for that. 

Find him any way, Brienne. 

I would go with you if I was free.  Even though your lady and her bastard brother would call for my head the moment they caught sight of me.  I know you would protect me and vouch for my meager honor.  I could rely on your strength to shelter me from harm. 

But I am a father who has a child yet living.  A sweet boy who is trying to find his path in this world, torn between roses and sparrows and his lioness mother who has never realized there is a difference between loving and owning. 

I was truly a father for but a moment.  The joy of holding _my daughter_ in my arms was unlike any I have ever known and then she was ripped away from me, ripped from this life, pushed too soon into the Stranger’s arms.  In my grief and rage I made every mistake that I could make. I ran back to Cersei and paid for her crumbs of solace and comfort with the tattered remnants of my soul, repeating the lies we’ve always told each other, the lies neither of us believe any more.  Once again, I tried to bury my grief and my guilt in her cunt.  Once again, I substituted her will and judgement for my own. 

Instead of sending me and this army to Dorne to kill those Sand bitches and avenge our gentle girl, Cersei had plots within schemes within machinations, all for the purpose of preserving her hold on our son’s power and none for preserving his heart. 

I see that now, with the clarity I always find in the depths of your sapphire eyes. 

Tommen needs me, Brienne.  Perhaps not as a father, but undoubtedly as Lord Lannister, Lion of the Rock, his strongest liegeman, the commander of his armies, and one day, if the gods are good to me, his trusted counselor. 

I never wanted the responsibility of ruling the West.  I did all I could to avoid it.  I only hope I am not taking it up too late to protect my son from all who would tear him down. 

From this day onward I will be the one who asks the King what is _his_ will.  How does Tommen, first of his name, think and feel, not how his mother or his wife or the High Sparrow tell him he should. 

And Tommen will feel the love that I have fought to suppress every day since he came squalling into this world, the beautiful result of an act that for me _was_ love, no matter how wrong and perverse the world thinks it.  He may never want to know that it is a father’s love I have for him, but he will know that he is loved all the same. 

If only he will let me. 

And my sister needs me too, Brienne.  Cersei needs someone strong enough to make her see what she is doing, to stand against her for the good of our son and for the realm before she destroys it all.  It will not be easy.  She will claw and fight and try to bring me back to heel, using all the tools the gods gave her and all the power she has managed to wrest from our sweet boy.  But I was not once the greatest swordsman in the land without learning subtlety, however little I have used it.  And I was not the son of Tywin and the brother of Tyrion without learning how to manipulate.  Just ask all these Tully soldiers who yet live. 

This may lead to my downfall.  It may even cost me my head.  But I know in my heart that it is the right thing to do.  Because I know it is what _you_ would have me do, my lady. 

Perhaps one day with you in the North and me in the South, we might even broker a peace between the houses we serve. 

And so farewell, Brienne.  I hear them calling for me.  Undoubtedly the Freys have fucked up something that will take my authority to resolve.  But before I go, I must clear this water from my eyes.

Ah, to the seven hells with it.  If anyone notices, I can tell them truthfully that my vision of the breaking dawn was dazzling.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank you for reading this fic, especially those who have waited patiently through the months it took me to finish.  Your comments and kudos have been deeply appreciated.
> 
> This was the first thing I began writing in the J/B fandom.  The opening chapter and this final one were supposed to be the entire story, a one shot that came to me almost a year ago after re-re-re-rewatching ep. 6.8.  Then my brain said “Let’s have Jaime play pretend.”  I never imagined it would balloon like this or take me so darned long to complete it.  This last chapter had been sitting in my Dropbox for a long time.
> 
> When I started this, back before season seven premiered, I was firmly convinced that the sight of Cersei’s ass on the Iron Throne would send Jaime immediately fleeing north to Winterfell.  Well, at least he got to that point eventually.


End file.
